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Shifting  for  Himself 

OR 

GILBERT  GREYSON'S  FORTUNE 


BY 

HORATIO  ALGER,  JR. 


AUTHOR  OF 

"BOUND  TO  RISE,"  "SLOW  AND  SURE,"  "RISEN  FROM 

THE  RANKS,"  "JULIUS,  THE  STREET  BOY," 

ETC.,  ETC., 


CHICAGO 
M.   A.   DONOHUE    &   COMPANY 


SHIFTING  FOR  HIMSELF 


CHAPTER  I. 

TWO    SCHOOLFELLOWS. 

Dr.  Burton's  boarding  school  was  in  a  ferment  of  hope 
and  expectation.  To-morrow  was  the  end  of  the  term, 
and  vacation,  so  dear  to  the  heart  of  every  schoolboy,  was 
close  at  hand. 

The  school  was  not  a  large  one.     There  were  twenty- 
four  boarding  pupils,  and  an  equal  number  of  day  scholars 
from  the  village  of  Westville,  in  which  the  school  had 
been  established  twenty  years  before.     It  was  favorably  ' 
situated,  being  only  forty  miles  from  £Jew  York.     Half 
the  boarding  scholars  were  from  the  city,  and  half  from 
distant  places.     Generally  two  or  three  pupils  were  sent 
'•  to  college  each  year,  and,  as  the  principal  was  a  thorough  , 
[scholar,  maintained  a  creditable,  often  a  high  rank. 

The  school  session  was  over,  and  the  boys  separated  into 
[little  knots.     The  day  scholars  mostly  went  home,  carry-  : 
| ing  their  books  under  their  arms. 

Among  the  little  knots  we  must  direct  particular  atten-  j 
tion  to  two  boys,  one  a  boarding  scholar,  the  other  a  day  j 
scholar.'  The  first  was  n-jlhprt.  Greysnn,  a  handsome, 

spirited  boy  of  sixteen;  the  o£her,  John  Munford,  of  about  j 
cr£!O'7Q"  ** 


6  Two  Schoolfellows. 

the  same  age,  and  much  more  plainly  dressed.  John  was 
the  son  of  a  carpenter,  of  limited  means,  and  had  already 
begun  to  learn  his  father's  business.  But  the  father  was 
sensible  of  the  advantages  of  education,  and  had  permitted 
his  son  to  spend  six  months  of  each  year  at  school,  on 
condition  that  he  would  work  the  balance  of  the  time. 
This  arrangement  seemed  fair  to  John,  and  he  took  care, 
whether  he  studied  or  worked,  to  do  both  in  earnest. 

"How  do  you  feel  about  vacation,  John  ?"  asked  Gilbert. 

"I  was  in  no  hurry  to  have  it  come,  Gilbert  It  is  likely 
to  be  a  very  long  vacation  to  me." 

"How  so?" 

"I  have  got  through  my  school  life." 

"What !  Are  you  not  coming  back  next  term  ?"  asked 
Gilbert,  with  evident  disappointment,  for  John  was  his 
most  intimate  friend. 

"Neither  next  term,  nor  any  other  term,  Gilbert,  I  am 
sorry  to  say." 

"Have  you  finished  your  education,  then?" 

"So  far  as  school  goes." 

"I  am  sorry  for  that.  I  shall  miss  you  more  than  any 
one  else." 

"We  shall  still  meet,  I  hope.     I  shall  be  at  work ;  but 

ere  will  be  times — in  the  evening — when  we  can  see  each 
other." 

"No  doubt;  but  that  won't  be  like  sitting  at  the  same 
desk,  and  studying  together.  You  had  better  let  me  ask 
your  father  to  send  you  one  more  year." 

John  shook  his  head. 

"No,  Gilbert,  it  ought  not  to  be.    My  father  is  poor. 


Two  Schoolfellows.  7 

you  know,  and  it  has  been  a  sacrifice  to  him  to  spare  me 
half  the  year  thus  far.  Now,  I  must  go  to  work  in  ear- 
nest, and  perfect  myself  in  my  trade,  that  I  may  relieve 
him  of  all  expense  on  my  account." 

"I  suppose  you  are  right,  John;  but  I  shall  miss  you 
none  the  less.  Somehow  I  never  could  be  reconciled  to 
your  becoming  a  carpenter.  You  are  not  cut  out  for  it." 

"Don't  you  think  I  will  make  a  good  one  ?"  asked  John, 
smiling. 

"I  am  sure  you  will;  but  that  isn't  the  question.  Do 
you  think  you  are  better  fitted  for  that  than  for  anything 
else?" 

"No,  I  don't" 

"Do  you  prefer  that  trade  to  any  other  business  ?" 

"No ;  but  I  can't  choose  for  myself.  I  should  rather  be 
a  teacher,  or  a  lawyer ;  but  there  is  small  chance  for  either.' 
For  either  I  should  be  obliged  to  study  years,  and  I  cant 
afford  to  do  that.  A  carpenter  I  am  to  be,  and  I  will  try 
to  make  a  good  one.  Now,  your  case  is  different.  You 
are  going  to  school  next  year,  I  suppose  ?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so.  That  is  as  my  guardian  determines, 
and  no  letter  has  been  received  from  him  yet.  I  believe 
Dr.  Burton  is  expecting  one  to-day  or  to-morrow." 

"You  won't  spend  the  summer  here,  I  suppose,  Gilbert?" 

"I  am  hoping  to  make  a  little  tour,  as  I  did  last  year.** 

"You  went  to  the  White  Mountains  then." 

"Yes,  and  had  a  jolly  good  time." 

"Where  will  you  go  this  year?" 

"I  want  to  go  to  Niagara,  stopping  on  the  way  at  Sara- 


8  Two  Schoolfellows. 

toga.    I  have  estimated  that  I  can  do  it  for  a  hundred 
dollars — the  same  that  my  last  summer's  trip  cost  me." 

"It  must  be  splendid  to  travel,"  said  John,  enthusias- 
tically. "I  mean  to  see  something  of  the  world  some  day, 
though  I  suspect  that  I  shall  be  a  pretty  old  boy  before  I 
am  able  to.  I  have  no  guardian  to  send  me  money.  I 
must  earn  my  money  before  I  spend  it." 

"I  never  earned  a  dollar  in  my  life,"  said  Gilbert.  "I 
wonder  how  it  would  seem  if  I  had  to  support  myself,  and 
make  my  own  way  in  the  world." 

"It  would  seem  hard  at  first.  It  comes  natural  to  me; 
but  then  I  have  been  differently  brought  up  from  you." 

"I  rather  envy  you,  John,"  said  Gilbert,  thoughtfully. 
"You  are  so  much  more  self-reliant,  so  much  better  able 
to  take  care  of  yourself." 

"It's  the  difference  in  the  training,  Gilbert.  I've  not 
doubt  it's  in  you;  but  circumstances  have  never  brought 
it  out.  You  expect  to  go  to  Yale  College  a  year  hence, 
don't  you?" 

"I  expect  to ;  at  least,  that  has  been  Dr.  Burton's  plan ; 
but  my  guardian  has  never  expressed  his  opinion.  He 
has  simply  given  his  consent  to  my  pursuing  the  course 
preparatory  to  entrance.  I  presume  I  shall  go,  however." 

"What  sort  of  a  man  is  your  guardian?" 

"I  have  never  seen  much  of  him.  He  lives  in  the  city, 
you  know ;  but  he  never  seemed  to  care  to  have  me  in  his 
home  much.  He  is  a  merchant,  and  appears  to  be  wealthy. 
At  any  rate,  he  lives  in  a  fine  house  uptown,  and  keeps  up 
ft  good  style  of  living." 

ippiinted  him  your  guardian?" 


Two  Schoolfellows.  9 

•*1  don't  know.     I  suppose  my  father." 

"Is  your  father  living  ?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Don't  know !"  exclaimed  John,  opening  his  eyes. 

"It  seems  strange  to  you;  but  I  cannot  give  any  ex» 
planation.  My  guardian  tells  me  I  shall  know  some  time; 
meanwhile  I  am  to  ask  no  questions." 

"Did  that  satisfy  you?" 

"No ;  but  when  I  pressed  my  question,  I  was  silenced.  1 
was  told  that  I  must  be  satisfied  with  being  so  well  pro- 
vided for,  without  trying  to  penetrate  into  matters  thai 
did  not  concern  me." 

"I  should  think  it  did  concern  you." 

"So  I  do  think ;  but  there  is  no  use  in  thinking  about  it 
It  would  only  perplex  me  to  no  purpose." 

"I  can't  put  myself  in  your  place  at  all.  To  me  it  seems 
so  natural  to  have  a  father  and  mother  and  sister.  How 
lonely  you  must  feel !" 

"I  have  never  been  used  to  them.  And  that  makes  a 
difference.  Sometimes,  to  be  sure,  I  begin  to  think  over 
the  matter,  and  wish  that  I  had  ties  like  other  boys ;  but  it 
doesn't  last  long.  But  here  we  are  at  your  home." 

"Come  in  a  minute,  Gilbert." 

"I  don't  know  if  I  ought  I  shall  be  late  to  supper, 
and  the  doctor  wouldn't  like  that" 

"Take  supper  with  us." 

"Yes,  take  supper  with  us,"  echoed  John's  mother,  a 
pleasant,  motherly-looking  woman,  who  heard  her  son's 
words  of  invitation  as  he  opened  the  door. 

Gilbert  hesitated. 


io  Two  Schoolfellows. 

The  little  table  spread  for  tea  looked  so  much  more 
comfortable  and  homelike  than  the  long  table  at  the  doc- 
tor's, that  he  was  strongly  tempted. 

"We  may  not  have  as  nice  a  supper  as  the  doctor,"  con- 
tinued Mrs.  Munford,  "but  you  may  not  mind  that  for 
once." 

"You  give  the  doctor's  table  too  much  credit,"  said 
Gilbert,  smiling.  "He  doesn't  mean  to  pamper  any  of 
tts,  or  make  us  gluttons.  I  would  a  great  deal  rather 
JBke  supper  here." 

"Then  stay,  Gilbert." 

"I  will,"  said  Gilbert,  in  a  tone  of  quick  decision.  "If 
lie  doctor  scolds,  why,  let  him." 

"He  won't  feel  anxious  about  your  not  being  back,  will 
he?"  asked  Mrs.  Munford. 

"No;  he  knows  I  can  take  pretty  good  care  of  myself. 
Besides,  it  will  be  a  saving  to  him,  all  the  more  because  I 
have  a  very  good  appetite." 

All  laughed,  for  Dr.  Burton,  though  on  the  whole  a 
very  worthy  man,  had  the  reputation  of  being  what  New 
Englanders  call  close.  It  was  thought  that  he  was  more 
economical  than  he  needed  to  be.  At  any  rate,  he  had 
made  his  school  profitable,  and  was  assessed  for  a  very 
considerable  sum  in  the  list  of  village  property  holders. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mary?"  said  Gilbert,  offering  his 
hand  to  a  girl  of  ten,  John's  sister,  who  just  then  entered 
the  room. 

"Pretty  well,"  said  Mary,  shyly.  • 

"Don't  blush  so,  Mary,"  said  John,  teasing  her,  as 
brothers  are  apt  to  do. 


Two  Schoolfellows.  II 

"I  wasn't  blushing,"  said  Mary,  indignantly. 

"Just  because  Gilbert  spoke  to  you." 

"You  are  too  bad,  John,"  said  his  mother. 

"How  soon  will  supper  be  ready,  mother  ?"  asked  John. 

"In  half  an  hour.     Why,  are  you  very  impatient  ?" 

"No ;  but  I  thought  there  might  be  time  for  Gilbert  and 
me  to  have  a  catch  in  the  yard." 

"I'll  tell  you  of  a  better  way  of  filling  up  your  time." 

"What  is  that?" 

"I  am  almost  out  of  wood.  Can't  you  saw  me  up  a 
Httle?" 

"I  am  afraid  it  will  be  dull  to  Gilbert  to  look  on,"  said 
John. 

"I  don't  propose  to  look  on.  You  shall  saw  and  I  will 
split." 

"I  don't  like  to  set  a  visitor  to  work,"  said  Mrs.  Mun- 
ford.  "I  didn't  expect  you  to  work  for  your  supper." 

"I  shall  enjoy  it  all  the  more.  Come  along,  John, 
You'll  see  what  execution  I  will  make  with  your  wood 
pile." 

As  the  two  boys  passed  out  into  the  woodshed,  Mrs. 
Munford  saidjf  "I  like  Gilbert.  Though  he  is  rich,  he 
doesn't  put  on  airs,  but  makes  himself  at  home  even 
vnong  such  plain  people  as  we  a 


CHAPTER  IL 
THE  GUARDIAN'S  LETTER. 

When  supper  was  over,  the  boys  took  a  walk,  bringing 
round  by  the  large,  square  house  occupied  by  Dr.  Burton 
for  his  boarding  school.  They  had  got  within  a  few 
rods  when  John  observed  one  of  the  younger  boys  run- 
ning toward  them. 

"There's  little  Evans,"  he  said  "He  looks  as  if  he  had 
a  message  for  you,  Gilbert." 

"From  the  doctor,  I  suppose.  I'm  in  for  a  scolding, 
probably." 

By  this  time  Evans  had  reached  them. 

"You're  wanted,  Greyson,"  he  said.  "Why  weren't  yoo 
home  to  supper?" 

"Is  the  doctor  mad?" 

"I  don't  know.     He  seems  anxious  to  see  you." 

"All  right.  Then  I'll  go  in.  I  must  bid  you  good* 
night,  John.  Business  before  pleasure,  you  know,  Of 
rather  business  after  pleasure." 

"I  hope  the  business  won't  be  serious." 

"I  hope  not.    Good-night" 

"Good-night,  Gilbert/' 

There  was  a  small  room,  about  twelve  feet  square, 
which  was  known  as  Dr.  Burton's  study.  There  was  a 
desk  beside  the  window,  and  book  shelves  occupying  the 
sides  of  the  room.  Hither  it  was  that  refractory  or  dis- 
obedient pupils  were  summoned,  to  receive  admonition 


The  Guardian's  Letter.  13 

from  the  principal.  In  his  early  experience  as  teacher  he 
had  employed  a  sterner  sort  of  discipline,  but  later  he 
had  substituted  words  for  blows — very  wisely,  as  I  think. 

Gilbert  went  at  once  to  the  doctor's  study. 

Dr.  Burton  was  a  tall,  spare  man,  with  strongly  marked 
features,  and  on  the  whole  rather  a  stern  face.  He  looked 
toward  the  door  as  Gilbert  opened  it. 

"Good-evening,  sir,"  said  Gilbert. 

"You  were  absent  from  supper  without  notice  or  per- 
mission, Greyson/'  the  doctor  began. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Where  were  you?" 

"I  walked  home  with  John  Munford,  and  was  invited 
to  take  supper  there." 

"I  should  have  had  no  objection,  if  you  had  asked  me. 
John  Munford  is  one  of  my  most  reliable  pupils,  both  in 
study  and  deportment." 

Gilbert  was  pleased  at  this  commendation  of  his  friend. 

"I  hope  you  will  excuse  me  for  absence  without  per- 
mission," he  said,  apologizing  with  a  good  grace. 

"You  are  excused,  Greyson." 

Supposing  that  the  interview  was  over,  Gilbert  bowed, 
tnd  was  about  to  leave  the  room,  but  was  stopped  by  the 
doctor. 

"Stay,"  he  said ;  "I  have  something  more  to  say  to  you." 

"What  else  have  I  done  ?"  thought  Gilbert,  in  surprise, 

"Sit  down,"  said  the  teacher. 

Gilbert  seated  himself. 

"How  long  have  you  been  here,  Greyson  ?" 

"Six  years,  sir." 


14  The  Guardian's  Letter, 

"In  a  year  more  you  would  be  ready  for  college,"  said 
the  doctor,  musing. 

"Why  does  he  say  'would'?  Why  not  'will'?"  thought 
Greyson. 

"Am  I  to  go  to  college?"  asked  Gilbert. 

"I  thought  it  probable;  but  I  have  just  learned  that 
your  guardian  has  other  views  for  you." 

"Have  you  a  letter  from  my  guardian?"  asked  Gilbert, 
eagerly. 

"Yes;  it  only  reached  me  this  afternoon.  Would  you 
like  to  read  it  ?" 

"Very  much,  sir.'* 

"Here  it  is,"  said  Dr.  Burton,  opening  his  desk,  and 
drawing  therefrom  a  letter  inclosed  in  a  buff  envelope. 

Gilbert  quickly  reached  out  for  it. 

This  was  the  material  portion  of  the  letter,  which  Gil- 
bert read  with  hurried  interest: 

"Circumstances  will  not  permit  my  ward  remaining  with 
you  another  year.  I  may  say  plainly  that,  should  he  do 
so,  I  should  be  compelled  to  defray  the  expense  out  of  my 
own  pocket,  and  consideration  for  my  own  family  will  not 
justify  me  in  doing  that.  I  have  never,  as  you  know, 
promised  positively  that  he  should  go  to  college.  It  was 
barely  possible  that  funds  would  be  forthcoming  which 
would  admit  of  such  a  course ;  but  it  is  now  quite  certain 
that  there  is  no  chance  of  it. 

"He  has  already,  as  I  should  judge  from  your  letters, 
considerably  more  than  an  average  education — more,  in- 
deed, than  I  had  when  I  began  my  career — and  he  oticrht 
to  be  satisfied  with  that.  He  has  led  an  easy  life  hitherto. 
Now  it  is  time  that  he  did  something  for  himself.  Upon 


The  Guardian's  Lette*.  15 

receipt  of  this  letter,  will  you,  as  soon  as  may  be,  send  him 
to  me  in  New  York?  I  will  then  confer  with  him  as  to 
bis  future  plans." 

This  letter  was  signed  Richard  Briggs. 

Gilbert  read  it  with  a  mixture  of  feelings.  He  was 
making  an  unpleasant  discovery.  Though  he  knew  little 
about  his  own  affairs,  he  had  always  cherished  the  idea  / 
that  he  had  considerable  property,  and  that  his  path  in 
life  would  be  smoothed  as  only  money  can  smooth  it.  He 
was  not  especially  fond  of  money,  nor  did  he  ever  presume 
on  its  supposed  possession,  but  it  was  certainly  comfort- 
able to  think  that  he  was  not  poor. 

Now  it  appeared  that  he  had  been  all  his  life  under  a 
mistake.  He  was  not  a  favored  child  of  fortune,  after  all, 
but  a  poor  boy — as  poor,  very  likely,  as  his  friend,  John 
Munford,  from  whom  he  had  just  parted.  No  wonder  he 
looked,  with  some  bewilderment,  in  the  doctor's  face  when 
he  had  completed  reading  the  letter. 

The  doctor,  though  a  stern  man,  felt  for  the  boy's  disap- 
pointment. He,  too,  had  been  under  the  impression  that 
Gilbert  was  at  least  comfortably  provided  for. 

"Well,  Greyson,"  he  said,  "I  suppose  this  letter  sur- 
prises you?" 

"Yes,  sir,  it  does,"  answered  Gilbert,  slowly.  "I  al- 
ways supposed  that  I  had  money  to  depend  upon." 

"I  don't  like  to  reflect  upon  your  guardian,  but  it  seems 
to  me  he  ought  to  have  apprised  you  beforehand  of  what 
you- had  to  expect." 

"I  wish  he  had." 


l6  The  Guardian's  Letter 

"Do  you  feel  very  much  disappointed  ?"  asked  the  doc- 
tor, eying  his  pupil  with  interest. 

"Considerably,  sir.  It  is  hard  to  fancy  myself  a  poor 
boy,  with  my  own  way  to  make  in  the  world." 

"It  might  have  been  worse.  You  have,  as  your  guard- 
ian suggests,  more  than  an  average  education." 

"Thanks  to  you,  sir." 

"And  to  your  own  application,"  added  the  doctor,  grati- 
fied by  this  tribute. 

"I  am  glad  you  think  so,  sir.  I  hope  it  will  help  me  in 
life." 

".Undoubtedly  it  will.  Besides,  you  will  have  the  in- 
fluence of  your  guardian  to  assist  you.  He  will  probably 
procure  you  a  good  place  in  some  counting  room. 

"I  wish  he  had  told  me  something  about  myself ;  where 
the  money  came  from  which  had  paid  my  bills  hitherto." 

Gilbert  looked  inquiringly  at  the  doctor,  as  if  to  ask 
whether  he  could  throw  any  light  upon  these  points.  But 
he  was  destined  to  be  disappointed,  for  the  doctor  said: 
"He  has  not  seen  fit  to  take  me  into  his  confidence.  I 
know  no  more  than  you  do  on  this  subject.  Perhaps,  in 
your  approaching  interview  with  him,  he  may  give  you 
information  on  the  subject." 

"I  will  ask  him,  at  all  events,"  said  Gilbert.  "When 
do  you  think  it  best  that  I  should  leave,  Dr.  Burton?" 

"He  wishes  you  to  be  sent  'as  soon  as  may  be,'  "  said  the 
doctor,  consulting  the  letter.  "I  should  think  you  had 
better  go  to-morrow,  or  the  next  day." 

"I  will  go  to-morrow,"  said  Gilbert,  promptJv 

"Can  ya'-i  _,.  ready  so  soon?" 


The  Guardian's  Letter.  17 

"I  will  pack  to-night,  sir." 

"That  shall  be  as  you  wish.  If  you  would  prefer  to 
Wait  till  another  day,  you  can,  of  course,  do  so." 

"Thank  you,  sir;  but  I  want  to  see  my  guardian  as  soon 
as  possible.  Will  you  permit  me,  as  the  cars  start  early 
to-morrow,  to  go  to-night  and  bid  good-by  to  John  Mun- 
ford?" 

Under  ordinary  circumstances  Dr.  Burton  would  have 
declined  this  application,  but  he  felt  that  it  was  only  nat- 
ural, and  he  gave  the  required  permission  without  hesita- 
tion. 

John  Munford  was  astonished  when,  on  opening  the 
front  door,  he  saw  the  schoolfellow  from  whom  he  had  so 
recently  parted. 

"What's  the  matter,  Gilbert?"  he  asked;  "has  anything 
happened?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Gilbert  "Get  your  hat  and  take  • 
walk  with  me.  I'll  tell  you  on  the  way." 


CHAPTER  III. 

RICHARD    BRIGGS. 

Gilbert  told  his  story  briefly. 

"So,  you  see,"  he  said,  in  conclusion,  "my  position  is 
like  yours,  after  all.  I  am  thrown  upon  my  own  exer- 
tions, and  must  face  the  world  without  the  help  of  money." 

"I'm  truly  sorry,"  said  John,  in  a  tone  of  sympathy. 

"Thank  you,  John ;  I  knew  you  would  be ;  but  do  you 
know,  I  am  not  sure  whether  I  am  so  very  sorry  my- 
self." 

"But  it  must  be  hard  for  you  to  give  up  the  hope  of 
wealth." 

"I  needn't  give  up  the  hope,"  said  Gilbert,  "only  if  the 
hope  is  to  be  realized  I  shall  have  to  make  it  for  myself. 
As  far  as  that  goes,  I  am  no  worse  off  than  you ;  but  tbex? 
is  one  advantage  you  have  over  me." 

"You  are  a  better  scholar  than  I  am." 

"I  don't  mean  that.  You  have  a  father,  and  mother, 
and  sister  to  encourage  you,  while  I  have  no  one." 

"You  have  a  friend,  Gilbert;  but  he  can't  help  you 
much." 

"I  know  that,  old  fellow.  You  have  been  my  most  in- 
timate friend  for  the  last  three  years,  and  I  hope  and  be- 
lieve that  our  friendship  is  going  to  last.  But  I  can't  help 
feeling  alone  in  the  world." 

"Why  don't  you  ask  your  guardian  about  your  father  ?" 

"I  mean  to;  but  I  don't  believe  he  will  tell  me." 


Richard  Briggs.  19 

"Have  you  any  idea  what  views  he  has  for  you?" 

"Not  the  slightest.  I  suppose  he  will  provide  me  with 
a  place  somewhere." 

"Then  you  are  entirely  in  the  dark  as  to  your  pros- 
pects ?" 

"Entirely  so." 

"I  wish  you  would  write  to  me,  Gilbert,  after  you  arc 
settled.  I  shall  want  to  know  all  about  it." 

"I  will  certainly  write.  In  fact,  you  will  be  my  only 
correspondent.  You  must  write  me  about  yourself,  too." 

"There  won't  be  much  to  write.  My  life  will  be  un- 
eventful. But  you  may  like  to  hear  news  of  the  village 
and  the  school,  that  is,  after  vacation  is  over.  I'll  write 
all  that  I  think  will  interest  you." 

"Thank  you.  You  may  be  sure  I  shall  want  to  hear. 
And  now,  John,  I  must  bid  you  good-night,  and  good-by, 
for  I  am  to  start  early  in  the  morning,  and  have  not  yet 
packed  my  trunk." 

"Good-night,  then.     Take  care  of  yourself,  Gilbert." 

"The  same  to  you,  John." 

So  the  two  boys  parted,  but  they  saw  each  other  once 
more.  As  Gilbert  was  about  to  get  into  the  cars,  John 
came  up  hurriedly  and  gave  him  a  farewell  shake  of  the 
hand. 

"He's  a  capital  fellow,"  thought  Gilbert.  "I  hope  he'll 
have  good  luck,  and  that  we  shall  meet  again  soon." 

An  hour  and  a  half  brought  our  hero  to  the  city.  He 
stepped  upon  the  platform,  and,  getting  upon  a  horse 
car,  rode  downtown  to  his  guardian's  office.  He  had  a 


fb*  Richard  Briggs. 

check  for  ht«  trunk,  but  did  not  claim  it  at  once,  not  feel- 
tng  certain  what  would  be  his  destination. 

In  a  busy  street,  not  five  minutes'  walk  from  Wall 
Street,  was  the  office  of  Richard  Briggs.  Gilbert  had  no 
trouble  in  finding  it,  for  he  had  been,  there  before.  Now, 
however,  he  had  a  new  feeling  as  he  entered  the  hand- 
somely fitted  up  room.  He  was  no  longer  the  wealthy 
ward,  but  as  it  appeared  the  humble  dependent  of  the  rich 
merchant  whom  he  was  to  meet.  The  change  was  not  an 
agreeable  one,  but  he  had  made  up  his  mind  that  he  must 
face  whatever  was  disagreeable  in  his  position  in  a  manly 
way. 

"Is  Mr.  Briggs  in?"  he  inquired,  of  a  clerk  who  was 
•writing  at  a  desk. 

"Ye« ;  but  I  don't  know  if  he  will  see  you." 

"He  sent  for  me." 

"Oh!  did  he?    Well,  he's  in  there." 

The  clerk-  pointed  to  an  inner  room,  partitioned  off  from 
the  main  office. 

Gilbert  approached  it,  and  as  the  door  was  partially 
open,  entered,  and,  removing  his  hat,  said :  "Good-morn- 
ing, Mr.  Briggs." 

Mr.  Briggs  was  a  short  man,  inclined  to  be  corpulent, 
with  marked  features. 

He  turned  as  he  heard  Gilbert's  salutation. 

"So  you  received  my  letter,"  he  said. 

"Dr.  Burton  did." 

"Yes,  I  wrote  to  him.     It's  all  the  same." 

"I  thought  I  had  better  come  up  at  once,  sir." 

"Yon  did  right" 


Richard  Briggi.  21 

"I  was  rather  surprised  at  what  your  letter  contained. 
Dr.  Burton  let  me  read  it." 

"You  fancied  yourself  rich  ?"  said  the  merchant,  coldly. 

"Yes,  sir;  I  had  always  been  led  to  suppose  so." 

"I  never  told  you  so." 

"You  did  not  tell  me  I  was  poor,  and  would  have  to 
make  my  own  way." 

"You  complain  of  that,  do  you  ?"  demanded  Mr.  Briggs, 
frowning. 

"I  wish  I  had  known  it  before." 

"It  wasn't  necessary  to  tell  you.  As  to  that,  my  judg- 
ment is,  of  course,  superior  to  yours.  You  understand 
do  you,  that  you  must  now  go  to  work?" 

"I  am  re'ady,  sir." 

"Have  you  improved  your  time  while  at  school?" 

"Dr.  Burton  could  tell  you  better  than  I  as  to  that." 

"He  would  be  more  reliable,  of  course.  Still,  you  must 
have  some  idea.  Give  me  your  own  impressions.  If  you 
misrepresent,  I  shall  find  you  out." 

"I  shall  not  misrepresent,  sir." 

"Of  course  not,"  said  Mr.  Briggs,  ironically.  "I  suppose 
you  were  a  model  scholar." 

"No ;  I  was  not ;  but  I  think  I  did  pretty  well." 

"What  do  you  know  ?" 

"I  can  tell  you  how  far  I  have  been  in  my  studies. 
I  have  been  so  far  in  Latin  and  Greek  that  in  another 
year — perhaps  less — I  should  be  prepared  for  Yale  C61* 
lege." 

"You  won't-  go  there.  You  can't  expect  me  to  paj; 
your  expenses."  ~ 


*2  Richard  Briggs. 

"I  don't,"*  said  Gilbert,  promptly.  "I  was  only  trying 
to  give  you  an  idea  of  what  I  knew." 

"Very  well.    Are  you  good  in  arithmetic?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"How  far  have  you  been?" 

"Through  the  book." 

"That  is  well.     How  do  you  write?" 

"Shall  I  give  you  a  specimen  of  my  writing,  sir?" 

"Yes.  Here  is  a  pen.  Write  anything  you  like.  You 
may  copy  the  first  three  lines  of  this  newspaper  article." 

Gilbert  did  so. 

"That  will  do  very  well.  You  don't  write  rapidly 
enough,  but  you  will  in  time.  I  shall  get  you  a  place  as 
soon  as  possible.  Where  is  your  trunk?" 

"At  the  depot." 

"You  can  have  it  sent  to  my  house.  You  will  stay 
there  till  I  can  get  you  a  boarding  place  or  make  some 
other  arrangement  for  you.  Do  you  know  where  I  live  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Give  your  check  to  an  expressman,  and  tell  him  to 
bring  it  round.  Stay,  here  is  my  son.  I  will  put  you 
in  his  charge." 

A  boy,  about  Gilbert's  age,  had  just  entered  the  office. 
He  was  the  counterpart  of  his  father,  and  no  one  could 
be  likely  to  mistake  the  relationship.  He  glanced  at  Gil- 
bert, but  did  not  speak. 

"Randolph,  this  is  Gilbert  Greyson,"  said  his  father. 

"Good-morning,"  said  Randolph,  curtly.  "Father,  I 
Srant  five  dollars." 


Richard  Briggs,  23 

"What  for?  It  seems  to  me- you  r  always  wanting 
drioney." 

"Everybody  needs  money,**  said  the  son,  pertly.  "I 
want  to  go  to  a  matinee  this  afternoon." 

"I  want  you  to  go  with  Gilbert ;  he  is  going  to  stop  with 
us  a  short  time." 

"He's  old  enough  to  take  care  of  himself,"  said  Ran- 
dolph, unpleasantly. 

"I  can  get  along  by  myself, **  said  Gilbert,  quickly.  "I 
don't  want  to  trouble  your  son." 

There  was  no  great  self-denial  in  this.  It  did  not  seem 
to  our  hero  that  he  should  particularly  enjoy  Randolph's 
companionship. 

"At  any  rate,  you  can  go  with  him  to  the  office  oi 
Adams'  Express.  He  wants  to  send  for  his  trunk." 

"Will  you  give  me  the  five  dollars,  then?" 

"Here  it  is.     Don't  come  again  for  a  week." 

"All  right.     Come  along,  whatever  your  name  is." 

This  last  polite  invitation  was  addressed  to  our  hero^ 
who  answered,  shortly :  "My  name  is  Gilbert  Greyson." 

"Well,  come  along.     I'm  in  a  hurry." 

When  they  had  reached  the  street,  Randolph's  curiosity 
led  him  to  say :  "I  thought  you  were  at  school." 

"So  I  was ;  but  your  father  sent  for  me." 

"He's  your  guardian,  isn*t  he?** 

"So  I  thought;  but  he  tells  me  I  have  no  money,  and 
must  work  for  my  living." 

"Oh,  indeed!"  said  Randolph,  superciliously.  "Thafs 
quite  a  different  matter.** 


84  Richard  Briggs. 

Gilbert  didn't  like  his  tone,  but  did  not  want  to  quarrel 
Jddthout  cause. 

They  walked  on  without  further  conversation. 

Presently  Randolph  said:  "There's  the  express  office. 
(Now  you  can  look  after  yourself." 

He  darted  off,  and  Gilbert  entered  the  office,  not  sorry 
ID  be  rid  of  his  uncongenial  companion. 


CHAPTER  IV 

GILBERT    MAKES  A    NEW   ACQUAINTANCE. 

Having  arranged  about  his  trunk,  Gilbert  took  one  of 
the  University  Place  cars  at  the  Astor  House,  and  rode  up- 
town. Mrs.  Briggs  might  not  know  of  his  coming,  and 
the  trunk  might  be  refused. 

The  house  was  a  four-story  brownstone  front,  with 
English  basement,  differing  in  nowise  from  the  thou- 
sands of  fashionable  mansions  to  be  seen  in  the  upper 
part  of  the  city. 

Gilbert  rang  the  bell. 

"Is  Mrs.  Briggs  at  home?"  he  inquired  of  the  servant* 
who  answered  the  bell. 

"I  don't  know,  sir.  Ill  see.  Will  you  send  youf 
name?" 

Gilbert  drew  out  a  neat  visiting  card  bearing  his  name* 
The  servant  took  it  and  carried  it  to  her  mistress. 

"Take  a  seat  in  the  parlor,  sir,"  she  said,  on  her  return* 
"Mrs.  Briggs  will  be  down  directly." 

The  large  parlor  was  showily  furnished,  in  the  regu- 
lation style.  There  was  a  chilly  splendor  about  it  that 
carried  with  it  no  idea  of  comfort  or  home  feeling.  Gil- 
bert's attention  was  drawn  to  a  family  portrait  near  the 
front  windows.  There  were  three  figures— Mr.  Briggs. 
Randolph  and  a  lady,  who  was  probably  Mrs.  Briggs. 
&be  had  a  high  forehead,  a  thin  face*  cold 


26      Gilbert  Makes  a  New  Acquaintance. 

pinched  lips.  Gilbert  privately  decided  that  he  should 
not  like  the  original  of  that  portrait. 

While  he  was  examining  it,  Mrs.  Briggs  entered. 

"Mr.  Greyson?"  she  asked,  in  a  chilly  way. 

"Yes,  madam." 

"I  believe  I  have  not  met  you  before.  You  are  Mr. 
Briggs'  ward  or  protege?" 

"Yes,  madam." 

"I  thought  you  were  at  a  boarding  school  somewhere 
in  the  country." 

"So  I  have  been,  madam;  but  the  term  is  at  an  end, 
and  Mr.  Briggs  sent  for  me  to  come  to  the  city." 

"Indeed!     Have  you  seen  Mr.  Briggs  this  morning?" 

"Yes,  madam.  It  is  by  his  direction  that  I  have  or- 
idered  my  trunk  brought  here." 

The  lady  arched  her  eyebrows  slightly. 

"Then  you  propose  to  favor  us  with  a  visit,"  she  said. 

There  was  a  slight  emphasis  on  the  word  favor,  which 
Gilbert  felt  to  be  a  sneer. 

"I  am  at  Mr.  Briggs'  disposal,"  he  answered.  "He  or- 
dered me  to  come  here  first.  I  hope  I  may  not  give  you 
any  trouble."  " 

"Oh !  no ;  you  will  excuse  my  not  remaining  with  you— 
I  have  an  engagement.  I  will  tell  the  servants  to  receive 
your  trunk,  and  put  it  in  your  room.  Our  lunch  will  be 
ready  at  one  o'clock." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Gilbert,  hastily;  "I  think  I  shall  not 
be  here  at  lunch.  I  want  to  go  about  the  city." 

It  was  eleven  o'clock;  and  he  was  sure  he  could  not 
loll  the  time  in  that  frigid  parlor  for  two  hours. 


Gilbert  Makes  a  New  Acquaintance.      27 

"Very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs ;  "then  we  shall  see  you 
at  dinner.  Our  dinner  hour  is  six." 

"Thank  you,  madam." 

"If  you  come  earlier,  you  can  ask  to  be  shown  to  your 
room. 

Gilbert  thanked  her  again. 

"Now,  I  must  leave  you.     Good-morning/' 

Mrs.  Briggs  sailed  out  of  the  room,  and  Gilbert,  fol- 
lowing her,  let  himself  out  into  the  street. 

"So  that's  what  they  call  a  city  mansion,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "I'd  ten  times  rather  be  in  my  room  at  Dr. 
Burton's.  I  felt  as  if  I  was  in  danger  of  stifling  in  that 
showy  parlor.  I  hope  I  am  not  going  to  live  there." 

Gilbert  had  nowhere  to  go;  but  the  city  was  a  novelty, 
and  he  wandered  about  the  streets,  looking  about  him 
with  the  keen  interest  of  a  country  visitor. 

A  short  walk  brought  him  to  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel. 
He  had  heard  of  it  often,  but  never  seen  the  interior. 
Attracted  by  the  curiosity,  he  went  in.  He  took  a  seat 
near  the  door,  and  idly  watched  the  people  who  were 
continually  going  out  and  coming  in.  Among  the  latter 
he  soon  saw  a  familiar  face.  Randolph  Briggs  lounged 
in,  swinging  a  light  cane. 

"Hello!"  he  said,  noticing  Gilbert;  "you  here?" 

"So  it  seems,"  said  Gilbert. 

"You  ain't  going  to  stop  here,  are  you  ?" 

*For  the  present,  I  am  staying  at  your  house.** 

"Oh,  yes;  I  forgot.     Been  up  there?" 

"Yes." 

"Did  you  see  mother?* 


18      Gilbert  Makes  a  New  Acquaintance^ 

"For  a  few  minutes.'* 

"Didn't  she  invite  you  to  hinch  ?" 

"Yes ;  but  I  thought  I  should  like  to  look  round  tht 
city  a  little." 

"What  do  you  expect  to  do?" 

"I  suppose  I  must  get  a  place.  As  I  have  no  prop* 
erty^I  must  do  something  to  earn  my  living." 

"You  don't  expect  to  stay  at  our  house,  do  you?" 

"I  don't  expect  anything.  I  feel  bound  to  be  guided 
by  your  father." 

"You  see,  it  would  be  awkward  to  have  an  office  bojj 
at  our  table,  meeting  our  friends." 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  Gilbert,  his  lip  curling. 

"It  wouldn't  be  proper." 

"I  suppose  you  know  best." 

"Probably  father  will  find  you  some  cheap  boarding 
bouse.  That  will  be  better  for  you,  you  know." 

"It's  a  pity  you  were  not  my  guardian,"  said  Gilbert 

"Why?" 

"Because  you  seem  to  understand  so  well  what  is  bestt 
for  me." 

Randolph  looked  puzzled.  Was  this  penniless  boy  chaf- 
fing him,  or  was  he  in  earnest?  Randolph's  vanity  led 
him  to  think  the  latter. 

"Yes,  of  course  I  do.  I've  lived  in  the  city  all  my  fife. 
I  ought  to  know  what's  what.  Do  you  play  billiards?* 

"No;  I  never  learned." 

"There's  a  billiard  room  below.  I  thought  we  might 
have  a  an;u_ 


Gilbert  Makes  a  New  Acquaintance.      29 

"I  never  played  a  game  in  my  life." 

"Then  there  would  be  no  fun  for  me.  I  guess  I'll  go  in 
tnd  get  a  drink.  Are  you  thirsty?" 

"No,  thank  you." 

"I'm  going  to  the  theater  afterward — a  matinee.  I've 
Only  got  one  ticket,  but  you  can  buy  one  at  the  door." 

"Thank  you;  1  would  rather  walk  about  the  streets 
this  afternoon." 

Randolph  lounged  into  the  fearroem,  ordered  his  drink, 
then  lounged  out  again. 

He  nodded  carelessly  to  Gilbert  as  he  went  out. 

"See  you  by  and  by,"  he  said. 

Gilbert  bowed. 

"It  doesn't  strike  me  I  shall  like  that  boy,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "I  wonder  if  his  father  knows  about  his  drink- 
fag." 

Gilbert  amused  himself  for  a  little  while  longer  watch- 
ing those  who  entered  and  departed  from  the  great  hotel. 
Then  he  went  out  into  the  street,  and  proceeded  down 
Broadway.  He  made  slow  progress,  for  there  was  much 
to  intertoi  a  stranger  like  himself  in  the  busy  life  of  the 
Street.  At  length  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  would  go 
to  Central  Park,  of  which  he  had  heard  a  great  deal.  By 
this  time  he  had  strayed  to  Sixth  Avenue  and  Fourteenth 
Street. 

At  the  same  time  with  Gilbert  a  young  girl  of  thirteen 
entered  the  car,  and,  as  chance  would  have  it,  she  and 
Our  hero  were  seated  side  by  side. 

Presently  the  conductor  made  his  rounds^ 


30      Gilbert  Makes  a  New  Acquaintanct 

First  he  presented  his  hand  for  the  young  girl's  far*. 
She  felt  in  her  pocket,  but  apparently  in  vain.  Her  face 
flushed,  and  she  looked  very  much  embarrassed. 

"I  think  I  forgot  to  bring  my  money,"  she  murmured. 
"I  will  get  out." 

"By  no  means,"  said  Gilbert,  promptly.  "Permit  me 
to  pay  your  fare.  For  two,"  he  said,  handing  the  amount 
to  the  conductor. 

"You  are  very  kind,"  said  the  young  girl,  looking  re- 
lieved. "I  live  in  Forty-eighth  Street,  and  should  not 
have  liked  to  walk  so  far.  I  am  sure  I  can't  tell  how  I 
happened  to  forget  my  money;  I  am  ever  so  much 
obliged  to  you." 

"Oh !  don't  mention  it,"  said  Gilbert,  privately  thinking 
his  new  acquaintance  one  of  the  prettiest  girls  he  had 
ever  met. 

"Will  you  give  me  your  name  and  residence,"  she 
asked,  "that  I  may  send  you  the  money?" 

"With  pleasure,  on  condition  that  you  won't  think  of  re- 
paying such  a  trifle,"  said  Gilbert. 

He  drew  out  a  card,  added  his  guardian's  residence,  and 
passed  it  to  his  companion. 

"At  any  rate,"  said  the  young  girl,  "you  must  call, 
and  let  mamma  thank  you  for  your  politeness  to  me.  This 
is  mine." 

She  handed  Gilbert  a  petite  card,  with  the  name  of 

"LAURA  VIVIAN, 
"No.  —  West  Forty-eighth  Street" 


Gilbert  Makes  a  New  Acquaintance.      31 

"Thank  you,"  said  Gilbert  MI  will  call,  with  pleasure, 
but  not  to  receive  thanks." 

After  this  the  two  young  people  continued  to  converse 
with  a  freedom  upon  which  they  would  not  have  ven- 
tured if  older  and  more  conventional;  and  Gilbert  was 
really  sorry  when  bis  fair  companion  arrived  at  her  street 
and  got  out 


CHAPTER  V. 

AT   THE    DINNER    TABLR, 

At  five  o'clock  Gilbert  started  from  the  park,  where  fit 
had  sauntered  about  for  several  hours,  and  reached  the 
house  of  Mr.  Briggs  half  an  hour  or  more  before  dinner. 

"Your  room  is  ready,"  said  the  servant,  who  had  re- 
ceived her  instructions.  "Shall  I  show  you  the  way  up?" 

"If  you  please.    Has  my  trunk  come  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"The  dinner  hour  is  six,  I  believe." 

"Yes,  sir.    The  bell  will  ring  at  that  time." 

Gilbert  understood  that  he  was  expected  to  remain  in 
his  room  till  dinner  time.  That,  however,  would  have 
been  his  choice. 

He  followed  the  servant  to  a  small  hall  bedroom  on 
the  third  floor,  where  he  found  his  trunk  awaiting  him. 
He  opened  it,  and,  taking  out  his  comb  and  brush,  and  a 
clean  collar,  made  his  dinner  toilet.  A  new  life  had 
opened  before  him,  and  he  could  not  help  wondering  what 
it  would  be  like.  In  the  midst  of  his  meditations  came 
the  sound  of  the  bell,  and  he  went  downstairs. 

Mr.  Briggs  was  already  present. 

"Well,"  said  he,  stiffly,  "so  you  found  your  way  here?* 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Did  you  see  Mrs.  Briggs  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 
;   "And  how  have  you  spent  the  day?* 


At  the  Dinner  Table.  33 

"I  spent  the  afternoon  at  Central  Park." 

"Was  Randolph  with  you  ?" 

"No,  sir.  It  wasn't  necessary;  I  found  my  way  with- 
out any  trouble." 

Here  Mrs.  Briggs  entered. 

She  nodded  slightly  to  Gilbert,  and  said,  in  a  chilly  way: 

"Take  that  seat,  Mr.  Greyson." 

Gilbert  seated  himself,  and  Randolph,  who  entered  di- 
rectly afterward,  sat  down  opposite. 

"You  were  not  with  Gilbert  to-day,  Randolph,"  said  his 
father. 

"No,  sir." 

"Where  were  you?" 

"At  the  theater." 

"Humph !  you  go  to  the  theater  too  much." 

"How  can  you  say  so,  Mr.  Briggs?"  said  the  mother, 
who,  though  her  heart  was  cold  to  all  beside,  fairly  idol- 
ized her  son,  and  as  a  consequence  foolishly  indulged  him. 

"This  is  the  second  time  he  has  been  this  week." 

"The  boy  is  young,  and  needs  recreation." 

"It  seems  to  me  it  is  all  recreation  with  him,  and  no 
jwrork.  When  I  was  a  boy,  I  was  lucky  if  I  could  go  to 
*  place  of  amusement  once  in  three  months." 

"You  hadn't  got  a  rich  father,"  said  Randolph. 

"I  am  not  made  of  money,"  muttered  Mr.  Briggs, 
^though  you  seem  to  think  I  am." 

"Really,  Mr.  Briggs,"  said  his  wife,  "it  is  ridiculous  to 
expect  Randolph  to  spend  as  little  as  you  did  when  you 
Were  a  boy.  The  circumstances  are  quite  different." 

Mr.  Briggs  frowned,  but  did  not  answer. 


34  At  the  Dinner  Table. 

"What  did  you  do  with  yourself?"  asked  Randolph, 
turning  to  Gilbert. 

"I  went  to  Central  Park.    It  is  a  beautiful  place." 

"I  never  go  there,"  said  Randolph.  "You  meet  only 
low  persons  there." 

"I  saw  many  driving  about  in  handsome  carriages.  Are 
they  low  ?" 

"Of  course  not.    I  meant  only  low  persons  walk  there." 

"Randolph  is  right,"  said  his  mother. 

"Still  I  think  I  shall  go  again,"  said  Gilbert. 

"Oh,  it's  different  with  you.  You  are  a  poor  boy,  ain't 
you?"  said  Randolph,  bluntly. 

Gilbert  colored  a  little. 

"I  only  know  what  your  father  has  told  me,"  said  he. 

"Have  you  got  any  property  of  Gilbert's,  father?" 
^sked  Randolph. 

"This  is  not  the  time  to  ask  such  questions,"  said  his 
father,  looking  annoyed. 

"Why  not?  There  is  no  company — no  one  but  our- 
selves." 

"Ahem!"  said  Mr.  Briggs,  clearing  his  throat;  "there 
was  a  very  small  property,  but  it  has  all  been  spent  on 
Gilbert's  education." 

"Who  left  him  the  property?"  asked  Randolph,  per- 
sistently. 

Gilbert  was  interested  in  the  answer  to  this  question, 
and  he  looked  with  eager  inquiry  at  his  guardian,  hoping 
that  he  would  reveal  what  he  had  so  long  desired  to 
know. 

"You  are  very  curious,"  said  Mr.  Briggs,  displeased 


At  the  Dinner  Table.  •     35 

"There's  no  reason  why  you  shouldn't  tell  me ;  is  there, 
father?" 

"No,"  answered  his  father,  slowly.  "The  money  wa* 
left  him  by  his  father,  who  was  an  old  schoolmate  of 
mine.  He  died  in  the  West  Indies,  and  sent  me  the 
money  in  trust  for  his  son,  to  provide  for  him  as  long  as 
it  lasted.  It  was  exhausted  nearly  a  year  since,  but  I 
kept  Gilbert  at  school  till  now  at  my  own  expense.  Now 
the  time  has  come  when  he  must  shift  for  himself." 

"Rather  hard  on  you,  Gilbert,"  said  Randolph. 

"I  am  willing  to  look  out  for  myself,"  said  Gilbert, 
quietly.  "My  father  did  all  he  could  for  me.  I  have  a 
good  education,  thanks  partly  to  you,  Mr.  Briggs,  and  I 
ought  to  be  able  to  make  my  way." 

"Oh,  you  are  welcome,"  said  Mr.  Briggs,  rather  un- 
comfortably. 

"You  have  done  more  than  could  have  been  expected, 
Mr.  Briggs,"  said  his  wife.  "Why  did  you  not  take  the 
boy  from  school  months  ago?" 

"I  wanted  him  to  have  a  fair  education." 

"It  seems  to  me  he  was  already  sufficiently  educated 
for  his  sphere  in  life,"  said  the  lady.  "I  don't  believe  in 
educating  persons  beyond  their  station." 

There  was  something  in  the  lady's  remarks  which 
grated  harshly  upon  the  ear  of  our  young  hero.  What 
right  had  Mrs.  Briggs  to  assume  that  his  station  was  in- 
ferior to  hers  ?  The  dislike  which  he  had  already  begun 
to  entertain  for  her  was  increased.  He  found  it  impossi- 
ble to  like  any  of  the  family,  but  he  had  insight  enough 


36  At  the  Dinner  Table8 

to  see  that  in  cold  selfishness  Mrs.  Briggs  exceeded  her 
husband  and  son. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Briggs,  in  answer  to  his 
wife's  last  remark,  "that  a  good  education  is  a  good  thing 
for  anyone  to  possess,  be  he  rich  or  poor." 

"You  wouldn't  advise  a  boy  that  was  going  to  be  a 
mechanic  to  study  Latin  or  Greek,  would  you?" 

"If  he  liked  it." 

"Then  I  can't  agree  with  you,"  retorted  the  lady, 
sharply.  "I  consider  it  simply  time  and  money  thrown 
away." 

"Have  you  studied  Latin  and  Greek,  Gilbert?"  asked 
Randolph. 

"Yes." 

"Have  you  gone  far  in  them  ?" 

"In  a  year  I  should  have  been  ready  to  enter  Yale 
College." 

"And  after  all,  I  suppose  you  will  be  a  mechanic," 

"Why  should  I  be?"  demanded  Gilbert. 

"You  have  no  money." 

"I  suppose  there  are  other  kinds  of  business  I  can 
learn." 

"Perhaps  so." 

Apparently  tiring  of  the  subject,  Randolph  turned  to 
his  mother. 

"Has  any  invitation  come  for  me  ?"  he  asked. 

"Invitation — to  what?" 

"I  hear  that  Laura  Vivian  is  going  to  give  a  party. 
1  didn't  know  but  she  might  invite  me." 

e  Vivians  do  not  visit  us.     I  should  be  glad  to 


At  the  Dinner  Tablee  37 

become  acquainted.  They  move  in  the  very  first  society. 
Do  you  know  Laura  ?" 

"I  knew  her  at  dancing  school.  I  used  to  dance  with 
her  sometimes.  She  was  a  great  favorite.  All  the  boys 
wanted  her  for  a  partner." 

"It  is  hardly  likely  she  will  invite  you.  I  wish  she 
would." 

"What  is  the  name  of  the  young  lady?"  asked  Gilbert, 
interested. 

"Laura  Vivian.    What  interest  can  you  feel  in  her  ?" 

"I  made  the  young  lady's  acquaintance  this  afternoon," 
said  Gilbert,  quietly. 

"Laura  Vivian?    Impossible." 

"Doesn't  she  live  in  West  Forty-eighth  Street?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  it  is  the  same  one,  as  you  will  see  by  this  card." 

Here  Gilbert  produced  the  card  referred  to  in  the  last 
chapter. 

"How  on  earth  did  you  get  acquainted  with  her?"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Briggs.  "Who  introduced  you?" 

"I  believe  I  introduced  myself,"  said  Gilbert,  smiling. 
"I'll  tell  you  all  about  it,"  and  he  recounted  the  circum- 
stances of  his  acquaintance. 

"She  invited  you  to  call?"  exclaimed  Randolph,  en- 
viously. 

"Yes." 

"Do  you  mean  to  go?" 

"I  shall  go  once,  out  of  politeness." 

"She  will  think  you  want  to  be  repaid  your  five  cents," 
raid  Mrs.  Briggs,  disagreeably. 


38  At  the  Dinner  Table. 

"I  don't  think  she  will,"  said  Gilbert.  "At  any  rate,  I 
will  take  the  risk." 

"Will  you  take  me  with  you  ?"  asked  Randolph. 

"I  hardly  think  it  would  be  proper,"  said  Gilbert;  "but 
if  I  have  a  second  invitation,  I  may  take  the  liberty  of 
doing  so." 

"Gilbert  is  right,"  said  Mr.  Briggs. 

Randolph  was  disappointed,  and  indulged  in  a  sneer 
at  a  penniless  boy  like  Gilbert  calling  on  a  young  lady 
of  high  social  position.  But  Gilbert  did  not  choose  to 
notice  it 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HOW    GILBERT    GOT    ON. 

When  dinner  was  over,  Gilbert  found  that  he  was  no! 
going  to  have  the  pleasure  of  Randolph's  companionship. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Randolph?"  asked  his  father, 
as  Randolph  was  leaving  the  room. 

"I'm  going  out." 

"Perhaps  Gilbert  may  like  to  go  with  you,"  suggested 
Mr.  Briggs. 

"I've  got  an  engagement,"  said  Randolph,  shortly. 

"When  was  it  made?" 

"This  afternoon." 

"Don't  let  me  interfere  with  Randolph's  engagements,** 
said  Gilbert,  hastily. 

"Won't  you  feel  lonely?"  asked  Mr.  Briggs. 

"Oh,  no,  sir.  I  shall  take  a  walk  down  Broadway. 
There  will  be  plenty  to  take  up  my  attention." 

"Randolph  can  hardly  be  expected  to  give  up  his  en- 
gagement," said  Mrs.  Briggs.  "I  am  surprised,  Mr. 
Briggs,  that  you  should  expect  it." 

Mr.  Briggs  muttered  something  about  politeness. 

Gilbert  protested  again  that  he  could  get  along  very 
well  by  himself,  and  the  matter  dropped. 

Presently  he  went  out,  and  Mrs.  Briggs,  who  had  been 
waiting  her  opportunity,  commenced  an  attack  upon  her 
husband. 


40  How  Gilbert  Got  On. 

"What  are  your  plans  for  this  boy,  Mr.  Briggs  ?"  she 
asked.  "Are  you  going  to  support  him  in  idleness?" 

"Certainly  not.  I  shall  find  him  a  place  as  soon  as  I 
can." 

"What  claim  has  he  upon  you,  I  should  like  to  know  ?" 

"He  has  only  me  to  look  out  for  him." 

"What  of  that?" 

"He  was  the  son  of  my  old  schoolmate." 

"I  have  old  schoolmates,  too,  and  some,  I  suppose,  are 
in  want ;  but  I  am  not  going  to  adopt  their  children." 

"This  boy  was  especially  recommended  to  me,  and 
what  property  his  father  left  was  given  in  trust  to  me 
for  him." 

"Well,  it's  all  used  up,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  your  trust  is  at  an  end." 

"What  are  you  driving  at,  wife?" 

"I  want  to  know  whether  you  expect  this  boy  to  remain 
in  your  house." 

"I  see  no  objection." 

"I  do.  You  will  be  pampering  him  at  the  expense  of 
your  own  son." 

Mr.  Briggs  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  apprehend,"  he  said,  "that  our  household  expenses 
Will  not  be  increased  materially  by  Gilbert's  remaining 
here." 

"Clothes  and  board  cost  something.  Besides,  he  5c  not 
a  fit  companion  for  Randolph." 

"Why  not?" 

"He  is  a  poor  boy." 


How  Gilbert  Got  On.  41 

"He  has  the  education  and  manners  of  a  young  gentle- 
man. It  strikes  me  that  he  is  quite  the  equal  of  Ran- 
dolph in  these  respects." 

"You  are  always  ready  to  side  against  your  own  boj  '" 

"I  don't  want  to  spoil  him." 

"You  seem  to  prefer  this  new  boy." 

"Not  at  all.  Must  I  be  unjust  to  every  other  boy,  be- 
cause I  have  a  son  of  my  own  ?" 

"You  know  what  I  mean  well  enough." 

"The  point  seems  to  be  that  you  don't  want  Gilbert  ill 
the  house." 

"No." 

"What  shall  I  do  with  him?" 

"Let  him  shift  for  himself." 

Mr.  Briggs  shook  his  head. 

"The  world  would  talk,"  said  Mr.  Briggs. 

"Let  them  talk !"  said  the  lady,  independently. 

"It  isn't  best  to  incur  the  reproach  of  your  fellow  men." 

"Well,  get  him  a  cheap  boarding  house;  that's  more 
suited  to  his  station  in  life  than  a  home  like  ours." 

"Let  him  stay  here  a  few  days,  and  I  will  see  what  I 
can  do." 

Mrs.  Briggs  would  have  preferred  to  have  Gilbert  leave 
the  next  day,  but  decided  to  accept  the  concession  made 
by  her  husband.  He  was  placed  in  a  difficult  position,  but 
did  not  venture  to  tell  his  wife  all.  The  truth  was,  for 
I  do  not  mean  to  make  a  mystery  of  it,  he  had  wronged 
Gilbert  most  grievously.  The  sum  of  money  placed  in 
*»«  hands  i"  *rusf  for  our  hero  had  been  not  ^  *™ 


42  How  Gilbert  Got  On. 

but  seventy-five  thousand  dollars.  Gilbert's  father,  trust- 
ing all  to  the  honor  of  his  friend,  had  exacted  no  guaran- 
ties of  good  faith.  So  far  as  Mr.  Briggs  knew,  no  living 
person  was  aware  of  the  amount  of  Gilbert's  inheritance. 
There  was  no  one,  so  far  as  he  knew,  to  contradict  his 
assertion  that  it  had  all  been  expended  in  the  education 
of  our  hero.  Yet  it  troubled  him.  He  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  wrong  the  boy,  but  he  was  not  so  hardened  as  to 
do  it  without  some  qualms  of  conscience.  He  meant  to 
do  something  for  him,  get  him  a  place,  and  give  him  a 
home  in  his  own  family ;  but  here,  as  we  see,  Mrs.  Briggs 
had  interfered  with  his  plans.  He  could  not  make  up  his 
mind  to  throw  Gilbert  wholly  upon  his  own  resources,  and 
he  was  disappointed  at  his  wife's  opposition.  He  was  not 
wholly  a  bad  man,  but  the  temptation  of  appropriating 
Gilbert's  money  had  been  too  great,  and  he  had  yielded. 
He  had  used  it  in  his  business,  and  a  sudden  call  for  it 
would  have  very  much  embarrassed  him. 

Meanwhile  Gilbert  set  out  on  his  walk.  The  crowded 
city  streets,  which  had  interested  him  in  the  daytime, 
assumed  a  new  charm  in  the  evening.  Walking  slowly 
along,  looking  in  at  the  brilliantly  lighted  windows,  he  did 
not  feel  the  need  of  companionship.  In  fact,  he  was 
rather  glad  that  Randolph  was  not  with  him,  for  he  had 
already  satisfied  himself  that  they  had  very  little  in 
common. 

Half  an  hour  had  passed,  when  all  at  once  he  heard 
his  name  called. 

"Good-evening,  Mr.  Greyson,"  said  a  sweet  voice. 

Turning  quickly,  he  recognized  Laura  Vivian. 


How  Gilbert  Got  On.  43 

"Good-evening,  Miss  Vivian,"  he  said,  pleased  at  the 
meeting. 

"Papa,"  said  Laura,  "this  is  Mr.  Greyson,  who  was  so 
polite  to  me  in  the  cars." 

Then  for  the  first  time  Gilbert  noticed  that  Laura  was 
Accompanied  by  a  pleasant-looking  gentleman  of  middle  H. 

•ge. 

"I  am  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Greyson,"  said  Mr.  Vivian, 
cordially.  "My  daughter  has  told  me  that  you  extricated 
her  from  a  dilemma." 

"It  isn't  worth  mentioning,  sir,"  said  Gilbert.  "I  am 
ashamed  to  be  thanked  for  such  a  little  thing." 

"It  was  a  trifle,  no  doubt,  but  a  mark  of  kind  attention,  | 
no  less.  My  daughter  and  I  are  out  for  a  walk.  If  you  | 
have  no  engagement,  will  you  join  us?" 

"With  great  pleasure,  sir,"  said  Gilbert;  and  he  spoke 
sincerely. 

"Do  you  live  in  the  city?"  asked  Mr.  Vivian. 

"I  have  been  at  a  boarding  school  hitherto,  but  I  have 
now  come  to  the  city  to  live." 

"Do  your  parents  reside  here?" 

Gilbert  looked  sober. 

"I  have  no  parents,"  he  said. 

"Indeed !"  said  Mr.  Vivian,  in  a  voice  of  sympathy. 

"Indeed,  I  have  no  relatives  that  I  am  aware  of;  Mr. 
Richard  Briggs,  a  merchant  of  this  city,  is  my  guardian.** 

"Richard  Briggs  ?    I  know  of  him." 

"I  ought  to  say,  however,"  added  Gilbert,  who  did  not 
wish  to  sail  under  false  colors,  "that  I  can  hardly  con- 
tinue to  call  him  my  guardian,  as  he  informs  me  that  my 


44  How  Gilbert  Got  On. 

little  property  has  been  all  expended  on  my  education,  and 
that  I  am  now  penniless,  and  must  work  for  my  living." 

"I  don't  consider  that  a  misfortune,"  said  Mr.  Vivian. 
"iJLwilLmake  a  man  of  you  the  sooner.  But  about  thi* 
property,  do  you  know  how  much  it  amounted  to  orig- 
inally?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Hasn't  Mr.  Briggs  ever  rendered  an  account  to  you?" 

"No,  sir.  I  have  always  supposed  that  I  should  be 
rich  until  within  a  week.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  I 
was  told  I  must  withdraw  from  school,  and  get  a  place." 

"Mr.  Briggs  has  not  treated  you  fairly  in  leaving  you 
uninformed  as  to  your  real  position,"  said  Mr.  Vivian, 
gravely. 

"I  won't  blame  him,  but  I  wish  he  had  told  me  earlier.* 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  a  fashionable  confec- 
tioner's. 

"Come  in  with  us  and  have  an  ice  cream,"  said  Mr. 
•Vivian. 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Gilbert,  and  the  three  entered 
and  sat  down  at  one  of  the  small  tables. 

At  a  table  near  by  sat  Randolph  Briggs.  Looking  up 
by  chance,  he  was  astonished  to  see  his  father's  penniles» 
ward  in  such  company. 

"By  Jove !"  he  muttered,  "that  young  beggar  has  more 
sheek  than  anyone  I  know  of." 

He  would  have  liked  to  have  joined  the  party,  but  even 
he  had  not  the  assurance  to  force  himself  upon  them.  So 
he  sat,  watchful  and  envious,  his  jealousy  excited  by  th* 
evident  favnr  with  which  Gilbert  was  regarded. 


How  Gilbert  Got  On.  45 

"If  Mr.  Vivian  knew  he  hadn't  a  cent  in  the  world,  he 
Wouldn't  be  quite  so  cordial,"  he  thought. 

But  Mr.  Vivian  did  know.  The  trouble  was  that  Ran- 
dolph did  not  know  him,  or  he  would  not  have  suspected 
him  of  such  regard  for  wealth  and  its  possession. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A    SPITEFUL    WOMAN. 

Randolph  lost  no  time  in  going  home  to  report  what 
he  had  seen.  Both  his  father  and  mother  were  surprised 
to  see  him  back  so  soon. 

"I  am  glad  you  came  home  early,"  said  his  mother. 

"Did  you  see  anything  of  Gilbert  while  you  were  out?" 
asked  his  father. 

"Do  you  suppose,  Mr.  Briggs,  that  Randolph  is  going 
to  follow  your  beggarly  ward?"  demanded  Mrs.  Briggs, 
sharply. 

"He  might  have  met  him,"  said  her  husband,  in  an 
apologetic  tone. 

"I  did  meet  him,"  said  Randolph,  in  so  significant  a 
tone  that  both  his  father  and  mother  looked  at  him  for 
an  explanation. 

"Where  do  you  think  I  saw  him  ?"  continued  Randolph. 

"In  some  low  place,"  suggested  his  mother. 

"Not  at  all.  He  was  eating  an  ice  cream  at  Del- 
tnonico's." 

"Pretty  well  for  a  penniless  boy !"  said  Mrs.  Briggs. 
"I  suppose  he  expects  us  to  supply  him  with  money  to 
pay  for  his  extravagant  outlays." 

"Oh,  he  didn't  pay  for  it  himself.  He  got  Mr.  Vivian 
to  treat  him." 

"Mr.  Vivian!" 

"Yes :  he  had  picked  up  Mr.  Vivian  and  Laura  some- 


A  Spiteful  Woman.  47 

where,  and  probably  suggested  going  in  to  take  an  ice 
cream." 

"No  doubt  Mr.  Vivian  invited  him,"  said  Mr.  Briggs, 
who  did  not  allow  dislike  to  run  away  with  his  common 
sense. 

"He  is  certainly  the  most  forward  and  impudent  boy  I 
ever  met,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Briggs,  whose  annoyance 
arose  largely  from  Gilbert's  succeeding  better  with  the 
Vivians  than  her  own  son. 

"Really,  my  dear,"  expostulated  her  husband,  "I  am 
sure  you  do  the  boy  injustice." 

"Don't  call  me  'my  dear,'"  said  Mrs.  Briggs  sconv 
fully.  "I  can't  see  what  has  got  into  you.  You  certainly 
must  be  willfully  blind  if  you  don't  see  through  the  art- 
fulness of  that  boy." 

"What  has  he  done?" 

"He  has  wormed  himself  into  the  intimacy  of  Mr. 
Vivian ;  that  is  what  he  has  done." 

"Why  shouldn't  he?  If  Mr.  Vivian  is  inclined  to  be- 
friend him,  it  will  be  a  saving  to  me." 

"It  won't  be  for  long.  Mr.  Vivian  will  find  him  out, 
and  cast  him  off." 

"I  don't  know  that  there  is  anything  in  particular  to 
find  out.  He  seems  to  me  as  good  as  the  average  of 
boys." 

"Well,  Mr.  Briggs,  I  can  only  say  that  you  seem  in- 
fatuated with  him.  I  beg  to  say  that  I  am  not." 

"That  is  apparent,"  said  her  husband,  smiling. 

"Moreover,"  added  his  wife,  provoked,  "I  wish  to  tell 
you  that  it  is  disagreeable  to  me  to  have  him  in  the  house. 


48  A  Spiteful  Woman. 

So  the  sooner  you  can  find  a  boarding  house  for  him  the 
better." 

"Well,  I  will,  if  you  insist  upon  it." 

"I  do  insist  upon  it." 

"Then  I  will  try  in  a  day  or  two  to  find  him  a  home." 

"Mark  my  words,  Mr.  Briggs,  you  will  find,  sooner 
Or  later,  that  my  prejudice  against  him  is  not  so  foolish 
as  you  imagine.  That  boy  will  turn  out  badly." 

"I  hope  not." 

"It's  all  very  well  hoping ;  but  you'll  see." 

Randolph  now  got  up  to  go. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Randolph?"  asked  his  mother. 

"I  am  going  out  a  while ;  I  can't  say  where." 

"Why  can't  you  be  satisfied  to  stay  at  home?" 

"Oh,  it's  so  stupid  staying  at  home,"  said  Randolph. 
"I  want  to  go  where  there's  something  going  on." 

"It  isn't  a  very  good  plan  for  a  boy  of  your  age  to 
spend  his  evenings  about  the  street,"  said  Mr.  Briggs. 

"Why  shouldn't  he  go  out?"  said  Mrs.  Briggs,  in  the 
spirit  of  opposition.  "You  haven't  anything  to  say  about 
your  favorite  being  out." 

"The  city  is  new  to  him.  If  he  went  out  every  evening^ 
like  Randolph,  I  should  think  it  a  bad  plan." 

"I  suppose  you  would  find  some  excuse  for  him." 

"Really,"  said  Mr.  Briggs,  "I  shall  be  quite  as  anxious 
to  get  him  out  of  the  house  as  you,  if  you  keep  up  such 
an  incessant  attack." 

"If  you  are  going  to  talk  to  me  in  this  style,  I  will 
retire,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs,  stiffly. 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  she  rose  an/1  left  tf* 


A  Spiteful  Woman.  49 

room.  Her  husband  made  no  op  position.  Indeed,  in  her 
present  temper,  he  felt  her  withdrawal  a  relief.  He  set- 
tled himself  down  to  the  comfortable  reading  qf  an  even- 
ing paper,  and  had  about  completed  its  perusal  when  the 
bell  rang,  and  Gilbert  entered  the  room. 

"Well,  Gilbert,  did  you  have  a  pleasant  time?"  asked 
fjis  guardian. 

"Yes,  sir ;  unexpectedly  so.    I  met  Mr.  Vivian  and  his 
daughter,  and  went  to  Delmonlco's  with  them." 
"You  found  him  an  agreeable  man,  no  doubt?" 
"Yes,  sir ;  he  treated  me  very  kindly  for  a  stranger." 
"He  has  a  high  reputation,"  said  Mr.  Briggs. 
"Is  he  in  business  ?" 

v/ 

"Yes;  he  is  an  importer,  and  is  generally  considered 
very  wealthy.  He  is  a  prudent,  conservative  man,  who 
avoids  dangerous  risks,  and  so  meets  with  few  losses." 

"He  has  invited  me  to  call  next  Friday  evening  at  his 
house." 

"You  had  better  go,  by  all  means.  His  friendship  may 
be  valuable  to  you." 

"I  am  glad  you  approve  of  my  going,  for  I  am  sure  I 
thall  enjoy  it." 

"Now,  Gilbert,"  said  Mr.  Briggs,  clearing  his  throat, 
"as  we  have  a  good  opportunity,  I  will  say  a  few  words 
about  my  plans  for  you." 

"I  wish  you  would,  sir.  I  am  anxious  to  know  what  is 
to  be  my  path  in  life." 

"I  propose  to  get  you  into  some  store  or  counting  room 
fa  the  city.* 


50  A  Spiteful  Woman. 

"Yes,  sir.    That  is  what  I  should  like." 

"And,"  continued  Mr.  Briggs,  rather  embarrassed,  "it 
will  probably  be  necessary  for  you  to  obtain  a  boarding 
place  nearer  the  business  part  of  the  city  than  you  would 
be  here." 

"I  should  think  it  would  be  better,"  said  Gilbert,  who 
decidedly  preferred  a  boarding  house  to  an  establishment 
presided  over  by  Mrs.  Briggs,  who,  he  clearly  saw,  was 
not  disposed  to  be  his  friend. 

"We  have  breakfast  too  late  to  admit  of  your  getting 
downtown  in  time,"  continued  Mr.  Briggs,  who  seemed 
to  want  to  justify  himself  in  the  eyes  of  his  ward  for 
the  inhospitable  proposal. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  think  it  will  be  every  way  better,"  said  Gil- 
bert, promptly.  "What  wages  do  you  think  I  can  get, 
sir?" 

"Why,"  said  Mr.  Briggs,  hesitating,  "beginners  like 
you  seldom  command  more  than  five  dollars  a  week  & 
first." 

Gilbert  looked  serious. 

"I  suppose,"  he  said,  "this  will  not  be  encmgh  to  pay 
all  my  expenses." 

"Certainly  not,"  said  his  guardian,  "but  you  need  not 
feel  troubled  about  that.  I  will  make  up  the  balance 
necessary  till  you  are  far  enough  advanced  to  be  self* 
•upporting." 

"You  are  very  kind,  sir,"  said  Gilbert,  gratefully ;  "but 
it  appears  that  I  have  already  cost  you  considerable." 

"Oh,  that  is  of  no  consequence,"  said  Mr.  Briggs;  hur- 


A  Spiteful  Woman.  51 

riedly.  "I  was  your  father's  friend,  and  naturally  I  feel 
an  interest  in  your  progress." 

"Thank  you,  sir ;  but  I  don't  like  to  be  a  continued  bur- 
den to  you.  Do  you  think  it  will  be  long  before  I  can 
support  myself?" 

"It  will  certainly  be  two  years — perhaps  three/' 

"Of  course  I  don't  know  anything  about  it,  but  I  should 
think  my  services  ought  to  be  worth  my  board  and  clothes 
before  that." 

"We  must  take  things  as  we  find  them,"  said  his 
guardian.  "There  are  a  dozen  applicants  for  every  place 
open  to  a  boy,  and  while  this  state  of  things  continues, 
employers  will  pay  low  wages.  Besides,  it  is  felt  that  a 
boy  is  paid  partly  in  the  knowledge  of  business  he  ac- 
quires." 

"I  have  no  doubt  you  are  right,  sir;  but  how  do  poor 
boys  manage  who  have  no  one  to  make  up  the  deficiency  ?" 

"Some  of  them  have  to  live  on  five  dollars  a  Week." 

"Couldn't  I  doit?" 

"I  should  not  be  willing  to  have  you.  You  have  been 
brought  up  as  a  gentleman,  and  could  not  get  along  as 
well  as  if  you  had  always  been  poor." 

"I  will  trust  to  your  judgment,  sir;  but  I  shall  want 
you  to  keep  an  account  of  all  you  spend  for  me." 

"Why?" 

"Because  some  day  I  mean  to  repay  it,"  said  Gilbert, 
proudly. 

"You  are  too  particular  about  this  matter,"  said  Mr* 
Briggs,  uncomfortably. 


52  A  Spiteful  Woman. 

"No,  sir,  I  don't  think  so.  I  think  I  am  old  enough 
now  to  undertake  my  entire  support." 

"I  will  see  about  it,  then." 

This  closed  the  conversation  for  the  evening.  Gilbert 
Jvas  glad  to  have  spoken  to  his  guardian.  Now  he  knew 
better  what  to  look  forward  to. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

GILBERT    GETS    A    PLACE. 

The  next  morning,  about  eight  o'clock,  the  family  were 
gathered  about  the  breakfast  table.  Randolph  was  ten 
minutes  late.  He  came  in  looking  sleepy  and  cross. 

"Randolph,"  said  his  father,  "what  made  you  so  late 
last  evening  ?" 

"I  wasn't  late." 

"You  may  not  call  half-past  eleven  late ;  I  do." 

"It  wasn't  more  than  half-past  ten  when  I  came  in." 

"You  are  quite  mistaken.  I  looked  at  my  watch  when 
I  heard  you  coming  upstairs." 

"It  was  rather  late;  but  you  needn't  make  such  a  fuss 
about  it,  Mr.  Briggs,"  said  his  wife.  "You  have  been 
out  later  than  that  yourself." 

"Whenever  I  have  been  late,  I  had  a  good  reason  for  it 
Besides,  there  is  some  difference  in  age  between  Ran- 
dolph and  myself." 

"At  any  rate,  you  needn't  scold  him  before  a  stranger." 

"I  do  not  consider  Gilbert  a  stranger.  Besides,  what 
I  say  is  partly  meant  for  him.  It  is  not  wise  for  any  boy 
of  his  or  Randolph's  age  to  remain  out  till  nearly  twelve." 

"I  hope  you  are  almost  through;  I  am  getting  tired 
of  the  subject.'* 

Thus  Mrs.  Briggs  gave  Randolph  indirect  encourage- 
ment by  taking  his  part  against  his  fathf/ 


54  Gilbert  Gets  a  Place. 

Mr.  Briggs  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  was  silent.  Gil- 
bert felt  rather  uncomfortable. 

"Will  you  have  some  more  coffee  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Briggs, 
in  an  icy  tone. 

<(No,  thank  you,"  he  said. 

"You  may  go  downtown  with  me,  Gilbert,"  said  Mr. 
Briggs.  "I  will  introduce  you  to  a  gentleman  who  will 
possibly  give  you  a  place." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

"I  hope,  Mr.  Briggs,  you  will  bear  in  mind  what  I  said 
last  night,"  said  his  wife. 

She  referred  to  his  getting  a  boarding  place  for  Gil- 
bert. 

"I  have  not  forgotten  it,"  he  answered. 

Gilbert  and  his  guardian  took  a  University  Place  car, 
and  they  rode  downtown  together. 

Mr.  Briggs  obtained  a  seat,  but  Gilbert  was  compelled 
to  stand,  on  account  of  the  crowded  state  of  the  car. 

Seated  beside  Mr.  Briggs  was  a  business  man  of  about 
bis  own  age. 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Sands,"  he  said,  for  it  was  an  ac- 
quaintance. 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Briggs.  Is  this  young  man  your 
ton?" 

"No,  he  is  under  my  charge,  however.  I  have  a  son 
of  about  his  age." 

"Is  he  at  school?" 

"He  has  been  till  recently.  I  am  looking  for  a  place 
for  him  at  present.  It  is  time  he  commenced  his  business 


Gilbert  Gets  a  Place.  55 

"Indeed,"  said  the  gentleman,  thoughtfully.  "Are  you 
thinking  of  any  business  in  particular?" 

"No.    I  shall  accept  any  good  opening  for  him." 

"The  fact  is,"  said  Sands,  "I  am  looking  for  a  boy 
to  enter  my  own  office.  I  was  compelled  yesterday  to 
dismiss  one  who  had  been  with  me  for  six  months,  on 
account  of  dishonesty.  I  found  he  appropriated  revenue 
stamps,  and  sold  them.  I  don't  know  how  long  this  has 
been  going  on,  but  probably  I  have  been  a  considerable 
loser." 

"I  don't  think  you  will  have  any  such  difficulty  with 
Gilbert,  if  you  are  inclined  to  take  him,"  said  Mr.  Briggs. 

"I  like  his  appearance,  and  will  take  him  at  once,  if 
you  say  so.  I  have  been  in  the  habit  of  paying  five  dollars 
a  week." 

"It  is  as  much  as  I  expected  him  to  earn  for  the  present. 
Gilbert,  this  gentleman  is  willing  to  give  you  a  place  in 
his  office." 

Gilbert  had  already  formed  a  favorable  opinion  of  Mr. 
Sands,  and  he  answered  promptly :  "I  am  very  much 
obliged  to  him,  and  shall  be  glad  to  be  in  his  employ." 

Mr.  Sands  looked  pleased. 

"May  I  ask  what  is  your  business,  sir?"  continued  Gil- 
bert. 

"I  am  a  broker ;  my  office  is  at  No.  —  Wall  Street." 

"I  am  afraid  you  will  find  me  very  ignorant  of  busi- 
ness," said  Gilbert;  ''but  Ihope  to  learn  rapidly." 

"There  is  nothing  that  will  puzzle  you  at  first.  If  you 
remain  any  leneth  of  time,  there  will  be  something  to 
learn"0 


56  Gilbert  Gets  a  Place. 

"I  have  assured  Mr.  Sands,"  said  Mr.  Briggs,  "that 
he  can  rely  upon  your  honesty.  His  last  boy  was  dis- 
diarged  for  lack  of  that  very  necessary  quality." 

"I  don't  think  he  will  be  disappointed  in  me,  so  far  as 
that  goes,"  said  Gilbert,  proudly. 

"I  don't  think  I  shall,"  said  the  broker,  upon  whom 
Gilbert's  modest  but  manly  bearing  had  produced  a  very 
favorable  impression.  "When  shall  you  be  ready  to 
go  to  work  ?" 

"At  any  time,  sir." 

"Does  that  mean  to-day?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"I  will  stipulate,  however,"  said  Mr.  Briggs,  "that 
Gilbert  may  be  released  at  four  o'clock.  I  want  to  select 
a  boarding  place  for  him,  and  that  will  give  me  time." 

"Oh,  certainly,"  said  the  broker.  "I  can  let  him  g3 
earlier  if  you  desire  it." 

"No,  it  will  not  be  necessary;  I  shall  not  myself  be  at 
leisure  till  that  hour.  You  know  my  place  of  business, 
Gilbert,  do  you  not?" 

"Yes,  sir ;  I  have  been  there  already,  you  know." 

'*!  remember.  Very  well,  go  with  Mr.  Sands  to  hif 
Office,  and  come  to  me  at  four  this  afternoon." 

"Very  well,  sir." 

It  seemed  rather  strange  to  Gilbert  to  find  himseli  ar» 
ready  in  a  situation.  The  transition  from  life  at  school 
had  been  very  sudden.  On  the  whole,  he  was  not  sorry 
for  it.  It  kindled  his  ambition  to  think  that  he  was  going 
to  make  himself  useful ;  that  he  was  to  have  a  part  in  the 
busy  scene  around  him.  He  only  regretted  that  for 


Gilbert  Gets  a  Plact,  57 

Jme  to  come  he  could  not  hope  to  earn  his  living  en- 
tirely; that  for  two  or  three  years,  perhaps,  he  was  to 
be  a  source  of  expense  to  his  guardian. 

"I  will  be  as  economical  as  I  can,"  he  thought.  "I  wiH 
cost  him  as  little  as  possible,  and  when  I  am  older  I 
will  pay  back  every  cent  I  owe  him,  if  I  am  lucky  enough 
to  have  the  means." 

Had  Gilbert  only  known  it,  it  was  Mr.  Briggs  who  was 
heavily  in  his  debt,  and  the  small  sum  which  would  be 
allowed  him  to  help  defray  his  expenses  was  already  his 
ownv  It  was  just  as  well  that  he  did  not  know  it.  It 
was  better  that  he  should  feel  entirely  dependent  upon 
his  own  exertions  for  support.  To  an  active  and  ambi- 
tious boy  it  is  a  stimulus  and  an  incentive  to  effort. 

"What  is  your  whole  name,  Gilbert  ?"  asked  Mr.  Sands, 
pleasantly. 

"Gilbert  Greyson,  sir." 

"You  have  been  at  school  until  recently,  Mr.  Brigg$ 
tells  me." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"In  the  city?" 

"No,  sir ;  I  was  at  Dr.  Burton's  classical  school,  in  thfe 
town  of  Westville." 

"I  have  heard  of  it.    Did  you  pursue  a  classical  course?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Then  you  know  something  of  Latin  and  Greek?" 

"Yes,  sir.  In  a  year  I  should  have  been  ready  for  Yale 
College." 

"Then  you  already  have  mor*  than  an  average  edu- 
cation." 


58  Gilbert  Gets  a  Place. 

"I  hoped  to  have  a  better,  .sir." 

"You  need  not  stop  learning  because  you  left  school. 
It  happens  that  I  myself  pursued  a  course  similar  to 
yours,  and  left  my  studies  for  business  when  nearly  ready 
for  college." 

"Indeed,  sir  ?"  said  Gilbert,  interested. 

"But  I  still  keep  up  my  Latin  a  little.  Greek  I  have 
pretty  much  forgotten." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  office  of  Mr.  Sands. 
It  was  not  large,  but  was  neat  and  well  furnished.  A 
clerk  was  at  a  desk,  engaged  in  writing.  There  was, 
besides,  in  waiting  a  boy  of  about  Gilbert's  age,  who  ap- 
parently wished  to  speak  to  Mr.  Sands. 

"You  here,  John?"  demanded  Mr.  Sands. 

"Yes,  sir,"  whined  the  boy.  "Won't  you  take  me  back, 
sir?" 

The  broker  shook  his  head. 

"No,  I  cannot,"  he  said.  "You  have  deceived  me,  and 
I  cannot  trust  you." 

"I  won't  do  it  again,  sir." 

"I  could  not  take  you  back  now  if  I  would,"  said  the 
broker.  "I  have  engaged  this  boy  in  your  place." 

John  scowled  at  Gilbert  with  a  sense  of  personal  injury, 
and  left  the  office. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE     FIRST    DAY     IN     BUSINESS. 

During  the  day  Gilbert  learned  the  way  to  the  Stock 
Exchange,  to  the  bank  where  his  employer  kept  an  ac- 
count, and  to  the  post  office.  He  was  also  sent  on  various 
errands  to  offices  of  other  brokers  and  business  men.  In- 
deed, he  was  kept  so  busy  that  he  found  the  day  pass 
very  rapidly.  He  made  up  his  mind  that  he  should  like 
Mr.  Sands,  whose  manner  toward  him  was  marked  with 
kindness  and  consideration. 

It  was  not  so,  however,  with  the  clerk  who  has  already 
been  mentioned.  He  was  disposed  to  regard  Gilbert  as 
an  unwelcome  intruder  into  the  office.  His  prejudice  will 
be  understood  when  the  reader  learns  that  he  was  a  cousin 
of  the  boy  who  had  been  discharged.  He  had  interceded 
to  have  John  reinstated  in  his  place;  but  Mr.  Sands  had 
been  inexorable. 

"I  should  like  to  oblige  you,  Mr.  Moore,"  said  he,  "but 
I  cannot  take  back  your  cousin.  I  must  have  a  boy  in 
whom  I  can  feel  a  reasonable  degree  of  confidence." 

"John  has  reformed,  sir.  He  will  be  strictly  honest 
hereafter." 

"I  hope  he  will,  for  his  own  sake ;  but  it  is  best  for  him 
to  find  some  place  where  there  will  be  fewer  opportunities 
to  steal." 

The  clerk  saw  that  it  would  be  of  no  use  to  pursue  th* 


6o  The  First  Day  in  Business. 

subject  further,  and  was  silent.  But  he  made  up  his  mind 
to  dislike  any  boy  that  might  come  in  his  cousin's  place. 

In  his  employer's  presence  he  did  not  venture  to  mani- 
fest his  feelings,  but  when  Gilbert  came  back  from  an 
errand  later  in  the  day,  Mr.  Sands  being  absent  at  the 
Board,  he  said,  irritably:  "What  made  you  so  long?" 

"So  long?"  repeated  Gilbert,  in  surprise.  "I  lost  no 
time,  Mr.  Moore.  I  went  directly  to  the  office  where  I 
was  sent,  and  as  soon  as  my  business  was  attended  to  I 
came  directly  back." 

"Oh,  no  doubt !"  sneered  Moore.  "You  didn't  stop  to 
play  on  the  way,  of  course." 

"No,  I  didn't,"  said  Gilbert,  indignantly. 

"Then  you  stopped  to  hear  a  hand  organ,  or  something 
of  the  kind,"  persisted  Moore,  in  a  disagreeable  manner. 

"You  are  quite  mistaken,  Mr.  Moore.  You  probably 
know  where  the  office  is,  and  must  be  aware  that  I  had 
no  time  for  any  such  delay." 

"Oh,  you  are  a  model  boy,  I  have  no  doubt!"  sneered 
the  clerk. 

"I  have  great  doubts  on  the  subject  myself,"  said  Gil- 
bert, good-naturedly.  "I  never  had  that  reputation." 

"Did  you  ever  do  anything  wrong?" 

"No  doubt  I  have." 

"I  thought  perhaps  you  were  intending  to  pass  yourself 
off  as  an  angel." 

"I  don't  believe  there  are  many  angels  in  Wall  Street," 
said  Gilbert,  in  the  same  tone  of  good  humor. 

"No  mo-       :  your  impudence !"  said  Moor       .appishly. 


The  First  Day  in  Business.  6l 

feeling  that  Gilbert  had  the  better  of  him  in  this  little 
passage  of  words. 

"What  have  I  said  that  is  impudent  ?"  asked  Gilbert,  in 
astonishment. 

"No  matter.    Go  to  your  work." 

"What  a  disagreeable  fellow !"  thought  our  hero.  "1 
don't  think  I  shall  enjoy  having  him  over  me.  He  seems 
determined  to  find  fault." 

"Go  over  to  Smith  &  Dixon's,  and  ask  them  for  a 
Union  Pacific  First,  on  our  account — stay;  here's  an 
order." 

"All  right,  sir." 

"And  don't  be  gone  all  day." 

"I  shall  be  back  as  soon  as  I  can,"  said  Gilbert,  coldly. 

"Mind  you  do !"  said  Moore,  in  an  aggravating  manner. 

It  was  a  comfort  to  Gilbert  that  Mr.  Moore  did  not 
venture  to  treat  him  in  this  way  while  Mr.  Sands  was  in 
the  office.  Then,  if  he  had  occasion  to  speak,  it  was  in 
a  proper  tone.  But  for  two  or  three  hours  during  the 
day  the  broker  was  absent  at  the  Stock  Exchange,  and 
during  this  period  the  clerk  saw  fit  to  treat  him  with 
rudeness.  This  treatment,  which  commenced  on  the  first 
day,  was  continued.  Gilbert  made  little  effort  to  con- 
ciliate Simon  Moore — this  was  the  clerk's  full  name — 
for  he  saw  in  advance  that  he  would  have  small  chance 
of  succeeding.  He  was  convinced  of  it  when  he  dis- 
covered the  relationship  between  Moore  and  his  prede- 
cessor, and  learned,  moreover,  that  the  clerk  was  a 
boarder-  in  his  cousin's  family. 

"I  sha>!  have  to  be  very  careful,"  tho^ht  Gilbert,  "or 


62  The  First  Day  in  Business. 

Mr.  Moore  will  get  me  into  trouble  of  some  kind.  He 
wants  to  get  rid  of  me,  for  some  reason  or  other." 

Gilbert  came  to  the  only  sensible  determination:  to 
do  his  duty  as  well  and  faithfully  as  he  knew  how,  and 
trust  to  Providence  for  the  issue.  He  decided  not  to 
trouble  himself  too  much  about  the  clerk's  enmity,  since 
he  knew  that  he  had  done  nothing  to  deserve  it. 

At  a  little  before  four  Gilbert  left  the  office,  and  sought 
the  counting  room  of  Mr.  Briggs.  He  found  that  gentle- 
man ready  to  go  uptown. 

"Well,  Gilbert "  he  said,  "how  do  you  like  your  first 
day  in  business?" 

"Very  well,  sir.     I  think  I  shall  get  on." 

"Then  you  don't  find  your  duties  hard?" 

"No,  sir ;  they  are  pleasant  and  easy." 

"You  will  find  Mr.  Sands  very  considerate  and  kind,  1 
am  sure." 

"I  like  him  already,  sir." 

"That  is  well,"  said  Mr.  Briggs,  in  a  tone  of  satis- 
faction. "The  next  thing  is  to  find  you  a  boarding  place.** 

"Yes,  sir.    I  shall  be  very  glad  to  get  settled." 

"There  will  be  little  difficulty  about  that.  If  we  start 
immediately,  I  can  select  a  place  for  you  this  afternoon." 

They  took  the  street  car  at  the  Astor  House. 

"I  have  been  thinking,  Gilbert,"  said  his  guardian,  "that 
Waverly  Place  or  Clinton  Place  will  be  a  good  location 
for  you.  It  is  not  so  far  but  that  on  pleasant  days  you 
can  walk  to  your  place  of  business.  This  will  save  car- 
fare, which,  though  a  small  matter,  is  yet  to  be  con- 
sidered where  your  income  is  so  small/' 


The  First  Day  in  Business.  63 

"How  far  is  it,  sir?" 

"About  two  miles  from  Wall  Street." 

"I  shan't  mind  that.  When  at  school  I  used  to  walk 
ten  miles  sometimes,  on  holidays." 

"Mind,  Gilbert,  I  only  recommend  it.  I  will  see  that 
you  have  money  enough  to  get  along  comfortably,  even 
if  you  choose  to  ride  constantly." 

"I  shall  enjoy  the  walk  when  it  is  pleasant." 

"Clinton  Place  is  the  western  portion  of  Eighth  Street," 
said  Mr.  Briggs.  "East  Eighth  Street  is  known  as  St. 
Mark's  Place.  There  are  numerous  boarding  houses  there 
also,  but  I  think  you  will  like  Clinton  Place  better.  I 
suppose  you  are  not  very  familiar  with  the  streets  yet?" 

"No,  sir;  but  I  shall  get  accustomed  to  them  as  soon 
as  possible.  I  found  this  morning  that  it  is  a  useful 
thing  to  know." 

About  twenty  minutes'  ride  brought  the  car  to  Clinton 
Place. 

"We  will  get  out  here,"  said  Mr.  Briggs.  "As  we  pass 
through  the  street,"  he  said,  "we  shall  probably  notice 
papers  pasted  on  some  of  the  houses,  indicating  that 
boarders  or  lodgers  will  be  received.  At  some  of  these 
houses  we  will  inquire." 

It  was  as  Mr.  Briggs  had  said.  They  had  scarcely 
begun  their  walk  toward  Broadway  when  they  saw  such 
a  paper  on  a  neat-looking  brick  house. 

"Let  us  inquire  here,  Gilbert,"  he  said. 

He  went  up  the  steps  and  rang  the  bell.  On  a  servant 
appearing,  he  announced  his  business.  This  brought  about 
an  interview  with  the  landlady. 


64  The  First  Day  in  Business. 

"Do  you  wish  a  room  for  two?"  she  asked. 

"No,  only  for  this  boy." 

"We  have  a  hall  bedroom  on  the  third  floor,  and  ao 
•fctic  room,"  said  the  landlady. 

"We  will  look  at  the  hall  bedroom." 

It  was  a  small  room,  about  seven  feet  by  nine,  and  tfaf 
furniture  was  very  common. 

"You  can't  expect  anything  very  luxurious,  Gilbert," 
gaid  Mr.  Briggs.  "Shall  you  be  contented  with  this 
loom?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Gilbert,  promptly. 

"What  is  your  price,  madam?"  asked  Mr.  Briggs. 

"With  board  six  dollars  a  week" 

"I  think  we  will  try  it,"  he  said.  "Will  you  stay  belt 
to-night,  or  come  to-morrow,  Gilbert?" 

Gilbert  thought  of  Mrs.  Briggs,  and  answered:  "I  wil 
begin  now.  I  suppose  I  shall  need  to  send  for  my  trunk.** 

"I  will  send  it  by  an  expressman — to-night,  if  possible.* 

"In  the  case  of  strangers,"  said  the  landlady  hesitating 
"we  expect  something  in  advance.'*' 

"I  will  pay  you  a  week  in  advance,"  said  Mr.  Briggs. 

He  drew  six  dollars  from  his  pocketbook,  and  handed  il) 
to  the  smiling  landlady. 

"Of  course,  sir,"  she  said,  apologetically,  "it  isn't  nec- 
essary with  a  gentleman  like  you,  but  it  is  our  custom." 

"Quite  right,  madam.  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  |* 
will  be  responsible  for  this  boy's  board.  Here  is  mjf 
card." 

Mr.  Briggs  was  a  well-known  business  man*  wad  M* 
name  was  familiar  to  the  landlady. 


The  First  Day  In  Business.  65 

"I  am  glad  to  have  a  friend  of  yours  in  my  house,"  she 
said.  "I  hope  the  young  gentleman  will  find  everything 
satisfactory." 

"I  don't  think  he  will  be  hard  to  please.  Good-evening, 
madam.  Good-night,  Gilbert.  You  must  call  and  see  us 
often." 

Mr.  Briggs  withdrew,  and  Gilbert  sat  down  on  the  bed 
and  tried  to  realize  his  new  position.  Less  than  a  week 
had  elapsed  since  he  left  school.  Now  he.  had  entered  on 
a  business  career  in  New  York.  It  made  him  feel  years 
older,  but  he  did  not  shrink  from  his  new  responsibilities 
He  rather  liked  them. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   NEW    BOARDING    HOUS8, 

Not  long  after  Gilbert  took  possession  of  his  room,  tfif 
bell  rang  for  dinner.  As  at  most  New  York  boarding 
houses,  the  last  meal  of  the  day  was  dinner,  not  supper. 
Gilbert  heard  an  adjoining  door  open,  and,  leaving  his 
own  room,  followed  the  occupants  down  to  the  dining 
room,  which  proved  to  be  in  the  front  basement 

The  room  was  deep,  and  allowed  of  a  long  table,  larga 
enough  for  the  accommodation  of  sixteen  boarders.  Mrs, 
White,  the  landlady,  did  not  herself  sit  down  to  the  table, 
but  superintended  the  servants,  who  acted  as  waiters. 

"Where  shall  I  sit,  Mrs.  White?"  asked  Gilbert. 

"You  may  sit  here,  between  Mr.  Ingalls  and  Misi 
Brintnall." 

Neither  of  these  persons  bad  appeared,  but  Gilbert  took 
the  seat  pointed  out. 

One  by  one  the  boarders  entered,  until  the  table  was 
full.  Gilbert  looked  about  him  with  considerable  curiosity. 
Mr.  Ingalls  proved  to  be  a  young  man  of  twenty-five, 
who  was  employed  in  a  wholesale  stationery  store  in 
William  Street.  Miss  Brintnall  was  an  elderly  looking 
young  lady,  who  was  engaged  as  teacher  in  one  of  the 
public  schools  of  the  city.  Ker  face  was  of  a  masculine 
type,  and  Gilbert  was  not  surprised  to  hear  that  she  was 
a  strong  advocate  of  woman's  rights. 

Just  opposite  were  seated  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Theophilui 


The  New  Boarding  House.  67 

Bower.  He  was  clerk  in  a  dry  goods  house,  and  had  been 
but  three  months  married.  He  was  an  inoffensive  young 
man,  with  hair  parted  in  the  middle,  who  appeared  to  be 
very  fond  of  his  young  wife,  who  wore  long  ringlets,  and 
seemed  quite  a  fitting  match  for  her  husband.  Gilbert 
was  rather  amused  by  the  manner  in  which  they  addressed 
each  other. 

"Theophilus,  my  love,  may  I  pass  you  the  salt?" 

"Yes,  my  dear." 

Occasionally,  that  is,  as  often  as  opportunity  offered, 
they  would  press  each  other's  hands  under  the  table,  the 
pressure  being  accompanied  by  a  languishing  look,  which 
nearly  upset  the  gravity  of  Mr.  Ingalls,  who,  in  his  en- 
deavors to  suppress  his  merriment,  once  came  so  near 
choking  that  he  had  to  leave  the  table. 

On  the  other  side  of  Mr.  Ingalls  sat  an  actor  at  one  of 
the  city  theaters,  with  his  wife.  He  seldom  engaged  in 
general  conversation,  but  spoke  in  low  tones  to  his  wife. 
Whether  this  sprang  from  natural  reserve,  or  from  his 
mind  being  preoccupied  with  his  business,  opinion  was 
divided ;  but  the  natural  consequence  was  that  he  was 
unpopular. 

There  were  several  other  boarders,  who  will  be  referred 
to  in  due  time.  Among  them  may  be  mentioned  Alphonso 
Jones,  a  man  of  thirty,  whose  seedy  attire  would  seem  to 
indicate  limited  means,  but  who  lost  no  opportunity  of 
boasting  of  his  aristocratic  connections,  and  his  intimacy; 
with  the  best  society. 

Mr.  Ingalls  was  the  first  to  notice  his  young  neighbor. 
Mrs.  White  had  introduced  Gilbert  to  his  right  and  left 


68  The  New  Boarding  Honse.' 

hand  neighbors,  but  left  him  to  make  acquaintance  Wttli 
the  rest  as  he  could. 

"Have  you  been  long  in  the  city,  Mr.  Greyson?"  be 
triced. 

"No,"  said  Gilbert,  "but  a  few  days." 

"I  suppose  you  are  on  business?" 

"I  am  in  a  broker's  office  on  Wall  Street." 

"And  I  am  in  a  wholesale  stationery  store  not  far  from 
IWall  Street.  If  you  have  no  better  company,  we  might 
go  downtown  together  in  the  morning." 

"Thank  you,  I  should  like  company." 

"That  is,  if  you  walk;  I  never  ride  except  on  stormy 
days," 

"Nor  shall  I.    It's  only  two  miles,  I  believe." 

"Scarcely  that ;  some  think  two  miles  a  long  walk.  My 
brother,  from  Boston,  who  was  here  for  a  while,  com- 
plained a  good  deal  of  the  long  distances  in  New  York. 
In  Boston  business  men  have  much  less  distance  tc. 
travel." 

"I  never  was  in  Boston,"  said  Gilbert.  "Is  it  a  pleasant 
City?" 

"It  is  the  'Hub  of  the  Universe,'  you  know;  so  Dr. 
Holmes  calls  it,  at  any  rate.  Yes,  it  is  a  pleasant  city,  but 
tmall,  of  course,  compared  with  New  York.  How  did 
you  happen  to  come  to  this  boarding  house?" 

"I  saw  a  notice  outside  that  boarders  would  be  taken.* 

"I  hope  you  will  like  it." 

"I  hope  so.    I  am  not  very  difficult  to  suit." 

"You  have  not  been  long  in  your  place  of  business,  I 
•oppose." 


The  New  Boarding  House.  69 

"No;  I  went  there  only  to-day.  I  have  always  been  at 
school  till  now." 

"Out  of  the  city?" 

"Yes,  at  Dr.  Burton's  boarding  school,  at  Westville." 

"I  have  heard  of  it." 

Then,  lowering  his  voice,  he  said:  "I  see,  Mr.  Grey* 
son,  you  are  looking  at  the  happy  couple  opposite." 

"They  seem  very  happy/'  said  Gilbert,  smiling. 

"Oh,  yes,  they  are  wrapt  up  in  each  other.  However, 
that  is  better  than  to  quarrel  all  the  time.  Do  you  see 
that  tall,  thin  man  at  the  end  of  the  table,  and  the  lady 
at  his  side?" 

"Yes." 

"There  isn't  much  love-making  between  them.  They 
have  a  room  adjoining  mine,  and  I  have  the  privilege  of 
listening  to  some  of  their  disputes." 

"Who  are  they?" 

"Maj.  McDonald  and  his  wife.  He  is  Scotch,  I  believe. 
They  married  each  other  for  their  money,  I  hear,  and  then 
discovered  that  neither  had  any  to  speak  of." 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  by  Miss  Brintnall,  | 
who  was  expressing  her  views  on  woman's  rights. 

"In  my  opinion,"  she  said,  "man  is  a  cruel  and  de9-~~) 
potic  tyrant.  He  monopolizes  the  good  things  of  this  life, 
and  only  throws  an  occasional  crumb  to  poor,  ill-used 
women.  Women,  for  the  same  work,  are  paid  less  than 
half  as  much  as  men.  Take  myself,  for  example.  I  work 
just  as  hard  as  the  principal  of  my  school,  yet  he  gets 
three  dollars  to  my  one.  Now,  I  want  to  know  where  is 
the  justice  of  that?" 


70  The  New  Boarding  House. 

• 
•vf*  "Perhaps,"  suggested  Mr.  Bower,  "he  has  a  wife  and 

£  children  to  support.  You  Jiagfip'jL  you  know.  Miss 
Brintnall.  Of  course,  you  couldn't,  you  know,"  he  added, 
with  a  simper. 

"I  might  have  a  husband  and  children  to  support,  I 
suppose,"  said  Miss  Brintnall,  severely. 

"If  that  is  the  case,  Miss  Brintnall,"  said  Mr.  Ingalls, 
Humorously,  "you  ought  to  let  us  know,  that  we  may  not 
cherish  vain  hopes." 

Miss  Brintnall  smiled ;  she  generally  did  smile  on  Mr. 
Ingalls,  who  was  a  favorite  of  hers.  Indeed,  it  was  gen- 
erally thought  at  the  table  that  she  would  have  had  no 
objection  to  becoming  Mrs.  Ingalls,  though  the  young 
man  certainly  had  never  given  her  any  encouragement, 
6ave  by  such  jocular  remarks  as  the  foregoing. 

"You  will  have  your  joke,  Mr.  Ingalls,"  she  said,  good- 
humoredly ;  "but  to  return  to  my  argument.  Is  there  any- 
one present  that  can  deny  the  correctness  of  my  state- 
ment, that  man  is  a  tyrant?'* 

"I  can,"  said  little  Mrs.  Bower,  indignantly.  "My 
Theophilus  isn't  a  tyrant,  are  you,  dear  ?" 

"I  hope  not,  my  love,"  he  answered,  pressing  her  hand 
tinder  the  table. 

Mr.  Ingalls  came  near  swallowing  a  piece  of  meat  the 
Hvrong  way,  and  Miss  Brintnall  sniffed  contemptuously. 

"There  may  be  exceptions,"  she  said,  "but  they  only 
prove  the  rule;  even  in  your  own  case,  Mrs.  Bower,  you 
inay  change  your  mind  some  years  hence." 

"I  never  shall,  I  am  sure.    Shall  I,  Theophilus,  dear.?" 

"No,  my  love." 


The  New  Boarding  House.  71 

Here  Mr.  Ingalls  squeezed  Gilbert's  hand  under  the 
table,  with  a  comic  look,  which  proved  very  trying  to  our 
hero's  gravity. 

Miss  Brintnall  received  unexpected  help  from  Mrs, 
McDonald. 

"I  agree  with  you  entirely,  Miss  Brintnall,"  said  that 
lady,  "and  I  don't  believe  there  are  any  exceptions.  .Men 
always  try  to  domineer  over  women." 

"My  experience  is  the  other  way,"  said  the  major. 

"Of  course,  I  expected  to  hear  you  say  so,"  said  the 
lady,  tossing  her  head. 

"Men  are  very  forbearing,  in  my  opinion,"  proceeded 
the  major. 

"And  very  unselfish,  I  suppose,"  sneered  his  wife. 

"That's  where  you  hit  the  nail  on  the  head,  ma'am." 

"I  think,"  said  Alphonso  Jones,  "it  depends  very  much 
on  social  rank.  I  have  the  privilege  of  being  intimately 
acquainted  with  some  of  our  very  highest  families,  and  I 
can  assure  you  that  they  are  very  harmonious.  Among 
the  lower  orders,  no  doubt,  men  often  act  like  brutes ;  but 
it  is  from  lack  of  refinement.  My  friends,  the  Tiptops, 
who  have  their  villa  at  Newport,  never  exchange  a  rude 
word.  I  think  you  are  too  sweeping  in  your  remarks, 
Miss  Brintnall." 

"I  have  not  the  honor  of  knowing  your  grand  friends 
Mr.  Jones,"  said  Miss  Brintnall,  sarcastically ;  "but  I  COIL 
tend  that  human  nature  is  everywhere  the  same.    Money 
and  rank  don't  change  it.    I  think  it  very  likely  that  some 
of  your  Fifth  Avenue  grandees  beat  their  wives." 


72  The  New  Boarding  House. 

"Oh,  Miss  Brintnall!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Bower  and  Mr. 
Jones,  in  chorus. 

"Yes,  I  do  believe  it.    I  won't  take  a  word  back." 

"I  don't  believe  your  husband  will  ever  beat  you,  Miss 
Brintnall,"  said  Mr.  Ingalls,  slyly. 

"I  think  not,"  said  the  teacher,  decidedly.  "I  should 
allow  him  all  the  rights  which  he  could  fairly  claim,  but 
I  would  not  let  him  infringe  upon  mine." 

"I  woudn't  marry  her  for  a  million  dollars,"  whispered 
iMr.  Bower  to  his  wife. 

"Isn't  she  horrid  ?"  was  the  shuddering  reply. 

Here  some  one  started  a  new  topic  of  conversation! 
And  Miss  Brintnall  subsided. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A    NEW    ARRANGEMENT. 

About  nine  o'clock  that  evening  Gilbert's  trunk  arrived. 
He  received  it  with  satisfaction,  and  unpacked  it  at  once, 
putting  a  part  of  his  clothing  into  the  drawers  of  a  small 
bureau,  which,  with  the  bedstead  and  one  chair,  took  Ufl 
about  all  the  space  in  his  contracted  chamber. 

Mr.  Ingalls  stepped  in  as  he  was  unpacking. 

"You  haven't  got  much  extra  room,"  he  said. 

"No,  I  wish  my  room  was  larger,"  said  Gilbert;  "but 
it  is  as  large  as  I  can  afford." 

"My  room  is  at  least  twice  as  large,  but  by  sharing  it 
with  another  I  pay  no  more  than  you  do." 

"You  are  in  luck;  that  is,  if  your  roommate  is  agree- 
able." 

"We  get  along  very  well,  but  I  expect  to  lose  him  in 
a  week.  He  is  to  leave  the  city.  If  you  would  like  to 
take  his  place,  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you." 

"Will  it  increase  my  board?"  asked  Gilbert. 

"How  much  do  you  pay  now  ?" 

"Six  dollars." 

"No;  you  would  pay  the  same  as  my  roommate." 

"Then  I  will  accept  your  offer  with  thanks." 

"I  hope  you  won't  have  cause  to  repent  it,"  said  Mr. 
Ingalls.  "If  you  do  at  any  time  I  will  let  you  off." 

"If  you  should  marry  Miss  Brintnall,"  suggested  Gil- 
bert, wfrh  a  smile,  "you  will  have  to  give  me  warning." 


74  A  New  Arrangement 

"No  Miss  Brintnall  for  me!"  said  Ingalls.  "I  don't 
jfwant  to  be  a  henpecked  husband,  or  marry  one  who  would 
•insist  on  wearing  the  breeches." 

"The  lady  seems  partial  to  you." 

"She  is  not  only  partial,  but  martial,"  said  the  young 
man,  who  was  apt  to  indulge  in  poor  jokes;  "I  would  as 
soon  marry  an  Amazon.  When  you  get  through  un- 
packing, come  to  my  room ;  you  may  like  to  see  it." 

"I  have  unpacked  as  much  as  I  intend  to  to-night,  I 
Will  go  with  you  now." 

Mr.  Ingalls'  room  was  square  in  shape,  and  of  very 
good  dimensions;  it  was  better  furnished  also  than  Gil- 
bert's. It  contained  two  single  beds,  side  by  side,  a  good 
closet,  a  sofa,  a  bureau,  rocking  chair  and  several  ordinary 
chairs.  Several  fair  engravings  adorned  the  walls,  and 
Gilbert  felt  that  it  would  be  decidedly  pleasanter  for  him 
to  share  such  a  room  as  this  with  a  pleasant  companion 
than  to  reign  sole  master  of  a  hall  bedroom. 

"How  do  you  like  it?"  asked  Mr.  Ingalls. 

"Very  much  better  than  mine.  I  shall  be  glad  to 
change." 

"Then  we  will  consider  the  arrangement  decided  upon. 
Can  I  offer  you  a  cigarette  ?" 

"No,  thank  you ;  I  never  smoke." 

"That  is  where  you  are  sensible ;  I  only  indulge  myself 
occasionally." 

They  sat  for  half  an  hour  and  chatted.  Gilbert  wa! 
favorably  impressed  by  his  new  friend,  who,  though  ten 
years  older  than  himself,  proved  a  congenial  companion. 
At  ten  o'clock  he  bade  him  good-night,  and  went  to  bed. 


A  New  Arrangement  75 

His  bed  was  not  particularly  soft  or  luxurious,  but  he 
dept  soundly,  and  awoke  in  the  morning  refreshed.  He 
•jook  an  early  breakfast,  and  walked  downtown  with  Mr. 
Ingalls. 

When  Mr.  Moore,  the  bookkeeper,  arrived,  Gilbert  was 
already  at  work. 

'A  new  broom  sweeps  clean,"  sneered  Moore,  in  an 
unpleasant  tone. 

"Do  you  mean  me  ?'*  asked  Gilbert. 

"Yes;  you  are  trying  to  make  Mr.  Sands  think  you  a 
model." 

"I  hope  he  won't  think  that,  for  he  will  find  out  his 
mistake.** 

"He  will  find  out  his  mistake,"  said  Moore ;  "I  predict 
that." 

"I  intend  to  do  my  work  faithfully,'*  said  Gilbert; 
"there  will  be  no  mistake  about  that." 

"I've  heard  boys  talk  that  way  -before.  They  don't 
deceive  me." 

Just  then  Mr.  Sands  entered.  He  greeted  Gilbert 
pleasantly. 

"So  you  are  on  hand  in  good  season.    I  like  to  see  that" 

"I  shall  try  not  to  be  late,  sir." 

"Where  do  you  board?'* 

"In  Waverly  Place.'* 

"That  is  convenient  as  regards  distance.  You  may  go 
to  the  post  office  for  letters." 

As  Gilbert  started  for  the  post  office,  a  boy  about  hit 
own  age  came  up  and  joined  him. 

"Ar«  von  Mr.  Sands'  new  boy?"  he  asked. 


76  A  New  Arrangement* 

"Yes,"  answered  Gilbert. 

"You've  got  my  place,  then.    I  used  to  be  thtrc.n 

"Did  you?    I  am  sorry  to  have  interfered  with  you." 

"You  won't  like  it.    He  is  very  hard  to  get  along  with.* 

"He  doesn't  look  like  it." 

"He  discharged  me  for  just  nothing  at  all.  That's  what 
my  cousin,  the  bookkeeper,  says." 

"Is  Mr.  Moore  your  cousin  ?"  asked  Gilbert,  who  begzui 
now  to  understand  the  cause  of  his  own  unpopularity  with 
that  official. 

"Yes ;  he  lives  at  our  house." 

Gilbert  said  nothing,  judging  that  it  would  be  repeated. 

"I  hope  you  will  get  another  place,"  he  said,  politely. 

"I  don't  want  another  place.  I  want  to  be  where  my 
cousin  is." 

Gilbert  felt  rather  awkward. 

"That  is  natural,"  he  said ;  "I  am  sorry  you  are  disap- 
pointed, but,  of  course,  I  am  glad  to  get  a  place.  I  have 
to  shift  for  myself,  and  it  is  necessary  I  should  be  earning 
money." 

"You  won't  stay  long;  old  Sands  will  discharge  you." 

"I  hope  not.  If  I  do  my  duty  faithfully,  I  don't  see 
why  he  should." 

"That  won't  make  any  difference.  Didn't  I  discharge 
my  duty  faithfully?" 

Gilbert  did  not  know,  and  expressed  no  opinion.  More- 
over, he  thought  he  would  not  inquire,  preferring  to  re- 
main neutral.  Besides,  he  doubted  whether  he  could  fully 
ely  on  the  correctness  of  John's  statements. 


A  New  Arrangement.  77 

"I  don't  want  to  lose  my  place,"  he  said ;  "but  if  I  do, 
I  hope  you  will  get  it  back  again." 

"Suppose  you  resign  in  my  favor,"  suggested  John,  in 
an  insinuating  manner. 

"I  would  rather  not,"  answered  Gilbert,  who  felt  that 
this  request  was  decidedly  cool. 

"Just  as  I  thought,"  muttered  John. 

"Mr.  Sands  would  not  thank  me  for  meddling  with 
what  is  not  my  business.  If  he  chooses  at  any  time  to 
put  you  back  and  dismiss  me,  he'll  do  so  without  any 
fequest  from  me.~ 

John  did  not  vouchsafe  an  answer,  but  walked  off 
Sullenly. 

Nothing  of  any  importance  occurred  during- the  day, 
except  that  Gilbert  found  the  bookkeeper  as  disagreeable 
as  ever.  It  seemed  impossible  to  suit  him.  This  Gilbert 
Correctly  attributed  to  his  disappointment  that  his  cousin 
had  been  superseded. 

About  the  hour  of  closing,  Gilbert  was  surprised  at 
the  entrance  of  Mr.  Briggs. 

"How  are  you  getting  on,  Gilbert?"  he  inquired. 

"Very  well,  thank  you,  sir." 

"Do  you  think  you  shall  like  this  place  ?* 

"Yes,  sir,  I  think  so." 

"And  you  don't  regret  leaving  school  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  do;  but  that  can't  be  helped,  and  I  don't 
trouble  myself  with  thinking  of  it." 

"You  are  right  there;  are  you  ready  to  go  uptown?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Come  along  with  nv,  the»" 


78  A  New  Arrangement 

When  they  were  in  the  street,  Mr.  Briggs  said:  "I 
will  tell  you  in  a  few  words  what  I  mean  to  do  for  you, 
so  that  you  can  have  a  fair  understanding  about  money 
matters.  I  shall  pay  your  board,  and  out  of  your  wages 
you  will  be  able  to  buy  your  clothes  and  provide  for  your 
other  expenses." 

"But,  Mr.  Briggs,"  said  Gilbert,  "I  shall  be  able  to  pay 
part  of  my  board.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  such  a  burden  to 
you." 

"Say  no  more  about  it,"  said  his  guardian,  hastily,  "1 
insist  upon  that  arrangement." 

"But,  sir,  I  shall  want  some  time  to  repay  you  for  the 
noney  you  spend  on  me." 

"When  you  are  a  rich  man,  I  will  permit  you  to  do  sa 
fill  then,  think  nothing  of  it." 

"I  am  at  least' very  grateful  to  you  for  your  kindness," 
said  Gilbert. 

For  some  reason  Mr.  Briggs  seemed  uncomfortable 
whenever  Gilbert  spoke  of  gratitude,  and  tried  to  drop 
the  subject. 

"Randolph  spoke  of  calling  to  see  you  this  evening/ 
he  said.  "Shall  you  be  at  home  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  him  come." 

Gilbert  was  rather  astonished  at  such  a  mark  of  atteiK 
tion  on  the  part  of  the  young  aristocrat,  but  determined 
to  treat  him  cordially,  for  bis  lather's  sake. 


CHAPTER  XIL 
RANDOLPH'S  CALL. 

Randolph  had  expressed  to  his  father  in  the  morning  an 
intention  of  calling  upon  Gilbert.  His  motive  was  not 
interest  in  our  hero's  welfare,  but  curiosity  to  find  out 
how  he  was  situated,  as,  indeed,  he  freely  acknowledged. 

"I  woudn't  call  if  I  were  you,  Randolph,"  said  his 
mother. 

"Why  not?"  asked  her  husband. 

"Gilbert  will  move  in  a  different  sphere,"  said  MrSj 
Briggs,  loftily.     "I  do  not  wish  my  son  to  form  inti*  > 
macies  beneath  him." 

"I  don't  intend  to,"  said  Randolph ;  "I  want  to  see  what 
sort  of  a  place  he  is  in." 

"He  will  be  likely  to  presume  upon  your  condescension, 
and  boast  of  you  as  one  of  his  friends." 

Mr.  Briggs  understood  Gilbert  better. 

"No  fear  of  that !"  he  said.  "Gilbert  is  a  boy.  of  spirit. 
He  is  not  one  to  seek  or  accept  patronage.  His  pride  is 
quite  as  great  as  Randolph's." 

"What  has  he  to  be  proud  of,  I  should  like  to  know," 
said  Mrs.  Briggs,  with  a  sneer. 

"He  is  my  ward,"  said  Mr.  Briggs,  stiffly,  "and  it  is 
quite  proper  that  my  son  should  pay  him  some  attention.' 

"You  seem  to  be  infatuated  over  that  boy,"  said  ms 
wife,  coldly.  "I  suppose  you  will  want  him  invited  to 
'Randolph's  birthday  party  next  month." 


80  Randolph's  Call" 

"I  certainly  shall,"  said  Mr.  Briggs. 

"This  is  going  rather  too  far,"  said  his  wife,  angrify. 

"However  that  may  be,  he  must  be  invited." 

"I  should  think  I  had  some  voice  in  that  matter,  Mr. 
Briggs." 

"Unless  Gilbert  Greyson  is  invited,  there  shall  be  no 
party  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Briggs,  with  decision. 

Mrs.  Briggs  felt  that  the  fiat  had  gone  forth.  Her 
husband  generally  yielded  to  her,  but  sometimes  he  put 
hisT  foot  down,  as  the  saying  is,  and  was  not  to  be  moved. 
She  felt  very  much  annoyed,  but  Randolph  offered  her  a 
way  of  yielding  gracefully. 

"Oh,  let  the  beggar  come,"  he  said.  "He  will  be  good 
fun.  I  want  to  see  how  he  will  behave." 

"Since  you  wish  it,  Randolph,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs,  ad- 
dressing herself  pointedly  to  her  son,  "I  will  make  no 
further  objection.  It  is  your  party,  and  you  ought  tci 
have  your  own  way.  But  I  shouldn't  think  it  was  neces- 
sary for  you  to  call  on  the  boy.  He  is  at  some  cheap 
boarding  house,  I  suppose." 

"Cheap,  but  perfectly  respectable,"  said  Mr.  Briggs. 

"I  want  to  see  what  a  cheap  boarding  house  is  like," 
said  Randolph ;  and  his  mother  said  no  more. 

At  eight  o'clock  the  servant  brought  up  to  Gilbert'! 
room  a  card  bearing  the  name  of  Randolph  Briggs. 

"It's  a  young  gentleman  that  wants  to  see  you,"  sl< 
explained. 

"I  will  go  down  and  bring  him  up,"  said  Gilbert. 

He  hurried  downstairs,  and  found  Randolph  waiting  it 
the  parlor. 


Randolph's  Call.  81 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Randolph,"  he  said,  cordially; 
"will  you  stay  here,  or  come  up  to  my  room?" 

"I  would  like  to  see  your  room,"  said  Randolph. 

"It  isn't  much  to  see,"  said  Gilbert,  "but  I  shall  be 
glad  to  have  you  come  up." 

"It's  a  long  way  downtown,"  said  Randolph. 

"All  the  better  for  me.  I  am  nearer  my  place  of 
business." 

Gilbert's  room  was  on  the  third  floor,  back.  He  opened 
the  door  and  invited  Randolph  in. 

"What  a  small  place!"  exclaimed  Randolph,  looking 
around  him. 

"So  it  is,"  said  Gilbert;  "but  I  make  it  do." 

"And  the  furniture  is  extremely  common,"  remarked 
his  visitor  critically. 

"That  is  true  also,"  said  Gilbert,  laughing. 

"There  does  not  seem  to  be  much  of  it  either;  you  have 
but  one  chair." 

'Take  that,  if  you  please,  and  I  will  sit  on  the  bed." 

Randolph  sat  down,  but  not  till  he  had  examined  the 
chair  carefully  to  see  it  if  was  clean. 

"I  don't  see  how  you  can  live  in  such  a  place."  re- 
marked the  young  aristocrat. 

"Oh,  I  easily  accommodate  myself  to  it,"  said  Gilbert; 
"but  I  hope  soon  to  make  a  change  for  the  better." 

"Indeed!" 

"Yes;  a  young  man  in  the  house  has  a  large  room; 
which  he  has  agreed  to  share  with  me  as  soon  as  his  pres- 
ent roommate  leaves.  That  will  probably  be  in  a  week. 
Then  Fcan  off°t;  "ou  a  better  reception." 


82  Randolph's  CalL 

"What  is  the  young  man's  name  ?" 

"Ingalls.    I  believe  he  comes  from  Massachusetts." 

"Is  he  in  business  ?" 

"Yes;  he  is  in  a  stationery  store  on  William  Street, 
Of  course,  he  is  a  new  acquaintance,  but  I  think  we 
shall  get  on  well  together." 

"What  sort  of  boarders  have  you  here?"  asked  Ran- 
dolph, curiously. 

"Rather  a  miscellaneous  class.  The  gentlemen  arc 
chiefly  in  business.  There  is  one  public  school  teacher— 
a  lady." 

"Of  course  there  is  nobody  that  moves  in  good  society?" 

"I  really  don't  know." 

"How  much  board  do  you  pay?" 

"Six  dollars." 

"Six  dollars !"  repeated  Randolph,  turning  up  his  nose, 

"Some  of  the  boarders  pay  considerably  more,  but  my 
room,  as  you  see,  is  small,  and  that  makes  it  low  for  me." 

"What  sort  of  a  table  have  you?" 

"Plain,  but  as  good  as  could  be  expected.  Of  course,  it 
don't  compare  with  yours." 

"I  should  say  not." 

"But  I  find  no  fault  with  it.  Everything  is  served 
neatly,  and  that  is  what  I  care  most  about." 

At  this  point  Mr.  Ingalls  knocked  at  the  door. 

"Excuse  me,"  he  said,  when  he  saw  Randolph ;  "I 
didn't  know  you  had  company." 

"Come  in,"  said  Gilbert ;  "or  rather,  if  your  roommate 
is  out,  let  us  adjourn  to  your  room.  We  shall  be  more 
comfortable-" 


Randolph's  Call.  83 

"Certainly ;  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you." 

"Mr.  Randolph  Briggs,  Mr.  Ingalls,"  said  Gilbert,  by 
way  of  introduction. 

"I  am  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance,  Mr.  Briggs," 
said  the  young  man. 

Randolph  bowed  condescendingly. 

They  went  at  once  to  the  larger  room. 

"This  is  much  better,"  said  Randolph,  who  seemed 
surprised  to  see  a  sofa. 

"Yes,  I  shall  consider  myself  promoted  when  I  get 
here." 

"Are  you  in  business,  Mr.  Briggs  ?"  asked  Mr.  Ingalls. 

"Oh,  no,  I  am  preparing  for  college,"  said  Randolph; 
"there  is  no  need  of  my  going  into  business." 

"I  wish  I  could  have  gone  to  college,"  said  Gilbert, 
regretfully. 

"It  takes  money  to  go  to  college,"  said  Randolph,  com- 
placently; "I  intend  to  live  in  style  when  I  go  there." 

"I  am  afraid,  Gilbert,"  said  young  Ingalls,  "we  must 
put  off  going  till  our  wages  are  raised." 

"I  must  put  it  off  forever,"  said  Gilbert. 

"I  have  hopes  of  getting  ready  when  I  am  fifty,"  said 
the  young  man;  "perhaps  Mr.  Briggs  will  be  a  professor 
at  that  time." 

"I  wouldn't  teach,"  said  Randolph,  "though  it  is  very 
respectable  to  be  a  professor.  I  shall  be  a  man  of  for- 
tune." 

Mr.  Ingalls  glanced  quietly  at  Gilbert.  He  was  evi- 
dently amused  by  the  self-importance  of  the  young  aris- 
tocrat. 


84  Randolph's  Call. 

"Do  you  like  your  place,'  Gilbert  ?"  asked  Randolph' 

"Pretty  well." 

"You  haven't  got  any  ice  water  here,  have  you  ?" 

"I  will  go  down  and  order  some." 

While  Gilbert  was  gone,  Randolph  said :  "I  am  glad 
Gilbert  has  got  a  place,  for  he  is  poor  and  needs  it.  My 
father  has  done  a  great  deal  for  him;  but  then,  he  can 
afford  it,  for  he  is  a  rich  man.  I  have  no  friends  in 
this  neighborhood;  but  I  thought  I  would  come  down 
to  see  how  he  was  getting  along." 

"Gilbert  ought  to  be  very  grateful,"  said  Mr.  Ingalls, 
dryly. 

"I  think  so,  too.  It  is  not  every  poor  boy  who  has  a 
rich  man  to  help  him." 

Here  Gilbert  re-entered  with  the  water,  and  shortly 
after  Randolph  left. 

"What  do  you  think  of  him,  Mr.  Ingalls?"  asked  Gil- 
bert. 

"He  seems  to  think  a  good  deal  of  himself,"  said  the 
young  man.  "He  referred  to  you  in  a  very  patronizing 
way." 

Gilbert  laughed. 

"His  mother  has  spoiled  him,"  he  said ;  "she  is  the  most 
disagreeable  woman  I  ever  saw.  If  Randolph  had  been 
brought  up  differently,  he  might  not  show  so  much  foolish 
pride.  I  like  his  father  best  of  the  three." 

Gilbert  little  suspected  that  the  man  whom  he  praised 
bad  been,  thus  far  in  life,  his  wors*  enemy. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

GILBERT    CALLS    ON    THE    VIVIANS. 

As  the  boarders  rose  from  the  dinner  table  on  Friday, 
Alphonso  Jones  addressed  Gilbert. 

"Let  us  take  a  walk,"  he  proposed. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Gilbert;  "but  I  have  an  engage- 
ment." 

"I  suppose  there  is  a  lady  in  the  case,"  said  Alphonso^ 
slyly. 

"There  is  a  young  lady  where  I  am  going,"  answered 
Gilbert. 

"So  I  thought.  I  suppose  you  wouldn't  be  willing  to 
mention  names  ?" 

"Oh,  yes.  I  am  going  to  call  on  Mr.  Vivian,  in  West 
Forty-eighth  Street." 

"What !  Mr.  Vivian,  the  great  merchant  ?"  asked  Jones^ 
surprised. 

"I  believe  he  is  an  extensive  importer." 

"That's  the  One  I  mean.  How  in  the  world  did  you 
get  acquainted?" 

"I  haven't  been  long  acquainted,"  said  our  hero. 

Alphonso  Jones  was  a  young  man  who,  in  England, 
would  be  called  a  tuft  hunter.  He  aspired  to  be  on  visit- 
ing terms  in  families  of  high  social  position ;  but  thus  far 
had  not  met  with  much  success.  This  did  not  prevent 
him  from  boasting  continually  of  intimacy  in  quarters 
where  he  was  not  even  acquainted.  He  did  *v)t  dreajcr 


86  Gilbert  Calls  on  the  Vivians. 

that  his  little  imposture  was  easily  seen  through  by  most 
of  those  who  knew  him,  but  was  complacent  in  the 
thought  that  he  was  classed  with  that  aristocracy  which 
he  admired  from  a  distance. 

"Don't  you  know  the  Vivians,  Mr.  Jones?"  asked  Mr. 
Ingalls.  "I  thought  you  knew  everybody  that  was  worth 
knowing." 

"So  I  do,"  said  Alphonso,  with  an  air  of  importance — 
"that  is,  nearly  everybody.  I  met  the  Vivians,  I  believe, 
at  Saratoga,  but  did  not  have  a  chance  to  cultivate  their 
acquaintance.  Greyson,  will  you  do  me  a  favor?" 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Gilbert. 

"Let  me  accompany  you  this  evening  to  Mr.  Vivian's. 
You  can  introduce  me  as  your  friend,  in  case  they  do  not 
remember  our  former  meeting." 

"I  should  like  to  oblige  you,  Mr.  Jones,"  said  Gilbert, 
"but  my  own  acquaintance  is  too  limited  to  allow  me  to 
take  such  a  liberty." 

"Just  as  you  say,  of  course,"  said  Alphonso,  crestfallen. 
"I  dare  say  I  shall  soon  meet  them  at  some  fashionable 
party." 

"So  it  will  really  not  make  much  difference,"  suggested 
Ingalls. 

"Oh,  very  little,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  nonchalantly.  "I 
thought  perhaps  Mr.  Greyson  might  like  the  company  of 
one  who  was  used  to  society.  I  think,  on  the  whole,  I  will 
call  on  my  friends,  the  Montmorencys,  this  evening." 

"Where  do  they  live,  Mr.  Jones  ?"  asked  Mr.  Ingalls. 

"They  occupy  an  elegant  mansion  on  Fifth  Avenue/* 
Alphonso,  consequentially. 


Gilbert  Calls  on  the  Vivians.  87 

"Couldn't  you  take  me  along  with  you?"  asked  Mr. 
Ingalls,  demurely. 

"I  fear  not,"  said  Alphonso.  "The  fact  is,  Mr.  Ingalls, 
the  Montmorencys  are  very  exclusive,  and  have  expressly 
said  to  me  more  than  once:  'We  are  always  glad  to 
have  you  drop  in,  Mr.  Jones,  for  we  look  upon  you  as 
one  of  ourselves;  but  bring  no  strangers.  Our  circle  is 
already  extensive,  and  we  cannot  add  to  it.'  Very  sorry, 
of  course." 

"So  am  I,  Mr.  Jones,"  said  Mr.  Ingalls.  "I  should 
like  to  know  a  few  high-toned  people.  How  fortunate 
you  are  in  knowing  so  many !  What  is  the  number  of 
the  Montmorencys'  house  ?" 

"I  always  forget  numbers,"  said  Alphonso,  rather  con- 
fused— for  the  whole  story  of  the  Montmorencys  was  a 
fiction — "but,  of  course,  the  house  is  familiar  to  me.  It's 
on  Murray  Hill." 

"That  fellow  is  a  humbug,  Gilbert,"  said  Ingalls,  as  he 

and  his  roommate  entered  their  own  apartment.     "He 

pretends  to  have  a  great  many  fashionable  friends;  but 

t's  all  a  sham.     Some  day  I'm  going  to  teach  him  a 

^esson." 

"How?" 

"Introduce  a  friend  of  mine,  a  good  amateur  actor,  as  a 
French  count.  Fancy  his  delight  at  making  such  a>6 
aristocratic  acquaintance !" 

"Let  me  know  when  the  time  comes,"  said  Gilbert, 
laughing. 

"You  shall  assist  me  in  it.  I  hope  you  will  have  a 
pleasant  call  this  evening." 


88  Gilbert  Calls  on  the  Vivians. 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  it." 

Gilbert  dressed  himself  carefully,  and  at  half-past  seven 
Started  on  his  visit.  The  evening  was  pleasant,  and  he 
decided  to  walk.  Just  opposite  the  Hoffman  House  he 
fell  in  with  Randolph  Briggs. 

"Hello,  Gilbert,"  called  out  Randolph,  "where  are  you 
bound — to  our  house  ?  I  don't  believe  you'll  find  anybody 
at  home." 

"I  am  bound  elsewhere,"  said  Gilbert. 

"Where  ?"  asked  Randolph,  curiously. 

"To  Mr.  Vivian's." 

"To  call  upon  Laura?" 

"My  call  will  not  be  exclusively  upon  her,"  said  Gilbert. 

"Take  my  advice  and  don't  go,"  said  Randolph,  actu- 
•ted  by  jealousy. 

"Why  not  ?"  Gilbert  asked,  quietly. 

"They  might  look  upon  it  as  an  intrusion." 

"I  don't  think  they  will,  as  I  was  specially  invited  for 
this  evening." 

"Out  of  politeness.  Probably  they  have  forgotten  all 
about  it." 

"It  appears  to  me,  Randolph,  that  you  take  a  good  deal 
of  interest  in  this  matter,"  said  Gilbert,  amused. 

"Oh,  I  care  nothing  about  it ;  only  as  a  friend  I  thought 

I  would  just  mention  that  it  might  be  thought  rather 

presumptuous  to  take  advantage  of  the  accident  that  made 

.    you  acquainted  with  Laura,  to  force  yourself  upon  the 

*>    J  family.    If  I  were  a  poor  boy  like  you,  I  would  be  careful 

I  pv  I  to  associate  with  my  own  class." 

Gilbert  was  provoked  at  Randolph's  insolence, .  as  he 


Gilbert  Calls  on  the  Vivians.  89 

rightly  considered  it,  and  answered,  coldly :  "I  will  think 
of  your  advice,  Mr.  Briggs.  I  appreciate  your  motives  in 
offering  it." 

"What  does  he  mean  ?"  thought  Randolph,  following 
with  his  eyes  his  father's  ward.  "I  believe  the  fellow 
is  angry  with  me.  Poor  and  proud,  I  dare  say.  The 
Vivians  will  soon  get  tired  of  him." 

But  though  he  tried  to  console  himself  with  this  reflec- 
tion, it  chafed  Randolph  not  a  little  that  Gilbert  should 
be  invited  to  a  house  which  he  could  not  hope  to  enter. 

Gilbert  kept  on  his  way  to  Mr.  Vivian's  house,  arriving 
about  eight  o'clock. 

"Is  Mr.  Vivian  at  home?"  he  inquired  of  the  servant 
who  answered  his  summons. 

"He  went  out  for  half  an  hour;  will  you  come  in  and 
wait  for  him?" 

"Is  Miss  Laura  in?" 

"I  believe  she  is." 

"Then  you  may  hand  her  my  card,  if  you  please." 

Gilbert  was  ushered  into  the  parlor.  He  did  not  have 
to  wait  long.  Laura  entered  and  cordially  offered  her 
hand. 

"I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  Gilbert — Mr.  Greyson,  I 
mean." 

"Never  mind  about  Mr.  Greyson,"  said  Gilbert,  smiling. 
"Call  me  Gilbert,  if  you  don't  mind." 

"Then  I  will,"  said  Laura,  frankly.  "Do  you  know,  1 
plready  begin  to  look  upon  you  as  an  old  friend." 

"I  *m  very  glad  of  that,  Miss  Laura." 


90  Gilbert  Calls  on  the  Vivians. 

"My  father  went  out  for  half  an  hour,  as  the  servant 
probably  told  you.  He  bade  me  keep  you  till  his  return." 

"Thank  you;  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  stay." 

"I  met  a  friend  of  yours  on  Fifth  Avenue  yesterday, 
Gilbert.'* 

"Who  was  it?" 

"Randolph  Briggs." 

Gilbert  smiled. 

"I  don't  know  how  far  he  is  my  friend,"  he  said ; '  'though 
he  told  me  this  evening  he  was,  and  as  a  friend  he  ventured 
to  give  me  some  advice." 

"Indeed?"  said  Laura,  looking  the  curiosity  she  felt. 

"Would  you  like  to  hear  what  it  was?" 

"I  certainly  should,  for  it  doesn't  strike  me  that  Ran- 
dolph Briggs  is  particularly  qualified  to  give  advice  to 
anybody." 

"He  advised  me  not  to  come  here." 

"Not  to  come  here!  Why  not?"  exclaimed  Laura,  im* 
petuously. 

"He  said  I  was  only  invited  out  of  compliment,  and  that 
my  visit  would  probably  be  considered  an  intrusion." 

"I  wonder  how  he  dared  to  say  such  things!"  said 
Laura,  indignantly.  "What  can  he  know  of  our  feelings? 
Why,  he  isn't  on  visiting  terms  here  himself!" 

"I  suppose  he  meant  it  for  my  good,"  said  Gilbert. 

"I  am  glad  you  didn't  take  his  advice,  Gilbert." 

"I  didn't  care  to  deprive  myself  of  a  pleasure.  B& 
sides,  I  thought  I  could  soon  judge  for  myself  whether 
you  looked  upon  me  as  an  intruder." 


Gilbert  Calls  on  the  Vivians.  91 

"What  do  you  think  about  it?"  asked  Laura.  "You 
have  been  here  long  enough  to  decide." 

"I  think  I  will  stay  a  little  longer." 

Just  then  a  boy  of  ten  opened  the  door  of  the  parlor. 

"Laura,"  he  said,  "mother  wants  you  to  brine  Mr. 
Greyson  into  the  library." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A   PLEASANT   EVENING. 

Gilbert  was  presented  to  a  pleasant-looking  lady,  whom 
Laura  introduced  as  her  mother. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Greyson,"  she  said,  cor- 
dially; "I  supposed  Laura  would  bring  you  in  here  at 
once,  but  it  seemed  to  be  her  intention  to  monopolize  you." 

"We  had  important  business  to  talk  over,  mamma." 

"Very  important,  no  doubt.  How  do  you  like  the  city 
Mr.  Greyson?" 

"I  think  I  shall  like  it  after  I  am  better  acquainted," 
Gilbert  answered. 

"You  haven't  introduced  me,  Laura,"  said  her  brother 
Fred,  in  an  aggrieved  tone. 

"Gilbert,"  said  Laura,  "let  me  introduce  to  your  favor- 
able notice  my  brother  Fred,  who,  in  his  own  opinion,  is 
a  model  of  all  the  virtues." 

"I  am  glad  to  meet  him.  I  never  saw  a  model  boy  be- 
fore," said  Gilbert,  pleasantly. 

"I  never  pretended  to  be  a  model  boy,"  said  Fred. 
"Laura's  only  chaffing." 

"Where  did  you  pick  up  that  word,  Fred?"  said  his 
mother. 

"Isn't  it  a  good  word,  mamma?  It's  just  what  she 
does." 

"Fred  has  just  commenced  Latin,"  said  Laura,  "but  I 


A  Pleasant  Evening.  93 

am  afraid,  from  his  own  story,  that  it  is  just  wearing 
out  his  constitution." 

"I  don't  see  any  good  in  it,"  said  Fred.  "Do  you 
know  Latin,  Mr.  Greyson?" 

"I  have  studied  it  some." 

"How  far  have  you  been  ?" 

"I  have  read  Caesar  and  Virgil." 

"Oh,  then  you  know  a  lot  about  it  I'm  only  in  the  sec- 
ond declension." 

"You  don't  like  it,  then?" 

"Not  much.  I  don't  see  how  anybody  could  ever  talk 
such  stuff." 

"You  will  be  more  interested  in  it  as  you  get  on 
further.  That  was  the  way  with  me.  I  wasn't  in  love 
With  it  at  first." 

"I  hope  so,"  said  Fred. 

Here  Mr.  Vivian  entered,  and  greeted  Gilbert  cor- 
dially. 

"I  told  Laura  to  keep  you,"  he  said.  "What  have  you 
been  doing  since  we  met  ?" 

"I  have  got  a  place,  or  rather  Mr.  Briggs  got  one  for 
me." 

"What  sort  of  a  place?" 

"I  am  with  Mr.  Sands,  a  stockbroker.  His  office  is  on 
Wall  Street." 

"I  know  of  him,  though  I  don't  personally  know  him. 
How  do  you  like  your  new  situation  ?" 

"I  have  not  been  there  long  enough  to  decide.  I  like 
Idr.  Sands." 

"Afe  you  still  an  inmate  of  Mr.  Briggs'  house  ?" 


94  A  Pleasant  Evening. 

"No,  sir ;  I  am  boarding  on  Clinton  Place,  near  Broad" 
way." 

"You  find  that  more  convenient  to  your  office  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Then  you  have  fairly  got  started  in  your  business 
career.  I  hope  you  may  be  successful." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

"I  believe  you  told  me  that  your  money,  of  which  Mr. 
Briggs  had  charge,  has  been  entirely  expended  on  your 
education  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Are  you  compelled,  then,  to  live  on  your  weekly 
wages  ?" 

"I  don't  think  I  could  do  that  very  well,  as  they  only 
amount  to  five  dollars  a  week.  Mr.  Briggs  offered  to 
pay  my  board,  and  let  me  use  this  for  other  expenses.  ] 
don't  like  to  have  him  do  it,  but  he  insists  upon  it." 

"That  seems  kind,"  said  Mr.  Vivian.  "Was  it  your 
idea,  or  his,  to  go  to  a  boarding  house  ?" 

"I  suspect,"  said  Gilbert,  hesitating,  for  he  was  not 
clear  whether  he  ought  to  tell  this,  "that  it  was  Mrs. 
Briggs'  idea.  From  the  first  she  has  not  seemed  to  like 
me." 

"I  don't  like  her  looks,'*  said  Laura;  "I  have  seen  her 
!  several  times.  You  know,  papa,  she  was  at  the  same 
hotel  with  us  at  Saratoga.  She  looks  cross." 

"You  must  not  speak  too  hastily  against  people,  Laura,1* 
said  Mrs.  Vivian. 

"I  suspect  Laura  only  shares  the  general  feeling,"  said 


A  Pleasant  Evening.;  95 

Mr.  Vivian.  "Mrs.  Briggs  is  by  no  means  a  favorite  in 
society." 

"Nor  Randolph,  either,"  added  Laura. 

"I  thought  he  was  a  beau  of  yours,  Laura,"  said  her 
father,  slyly. 

"He  never  was,  papa.  I  used  to  meet  him  at  dancing 
school,  and  I  have  danced  with  him  there ;  but  that  is  the 
end  of  our  acquaintance.  If  he  bows  to  me  I  bow  back, 
but  I  don't  care  to  know  any  more  of  him." 

"Can't  we  have  a  little  music,  Laura?"  asked  her 
father. 

"I  only  play  a  little.    Do  you  play,  Gilbert?" 

"No,  Miss  Laura." 

"Or  sing?" 

"A  little." 

"Then  I'll  make  a  bargain;  I  will  play  if  you  Witt 
sing." 

"I  hardly  feel  prepared  to  sing  in  company.11 

"This  isn't  company.  You  needn't  mind  any  01  us. 
Fred,  open  the  folding  doors,  will  you?" 

The  piano  was  in  the  parlor  adjoining.  The  doors  were 
thrown  open,  and  Laura  sat  down  to  the  piano.  Two  or 
three  songs  were  selected,  and  Gilbert  sang  to  Laura's 
accompaniment.  He  had  a  good  voice,  and  a  correct 
ear,  and  the  double  performance  paesed  off  smoothly. 

"Doesn't  your  brother  sing  ?"  asked  Gilbert. 

"Fred?  He  don't  know  one  tune  from  another;  be- 
sides, he  don't  like  the  piano.  The  hand  organ  is  hi* 
favorite  instrument." 


96  A  Pleasant  Evening-. 

"I  mean  to  buy  one  when  I  am  rich  enough,"  said 
Fred. 

"Shall  you  go  around  with  it?"  asked  Laura;  "or  only 
keep  it  in  the  parlor  for  the  entertainment  of  visitors?" 

"You  may  laugh  as  much  as  you  like,"  said  Fred ;  "but 
a  hand  organ,  that  is,  a  good  one,  sounds  splendid." 

"Did  you  ever  see  such  a  barbarian?  Gilbert,  what 
else  do  you  sing?" 

The  evening  slipped  away  almost  before  they  were 
aware.  To  Gilbert,  it  was  positively  delightful.  Not  that 
he  was  in  love  with  Laura,  but,  never  having  had  a  sister, 
it  was  an  agreeable  novelty  to  him  to  meet  a  young  girl 
so  frank  and  attractive  as  Laura. 

"I  hope  you  will  come  again  soon,  Mr.  Greyson,"  said 
Mrs.  Vivian,  when  our  hero  rose  to  take  his  leave. 

"Yes,  do  come,"  said  Laura. 

"I  shall  consider  it  a  privilege  to  call/'  said  Gilbert, 
with  sincerity. 

"By  the  way,"  said  Mr.  Vivian,  "I  have  taken  several 
tickets  for  a  concert  in  Steinway  Hall  next  Wednes- 
day evening.  I  have  a  spare  one  for  you,  Mr.  Greyson,  if 
you  have  no  engagement." 

"I  shall  be  very  glad  to  accept  one,  sir." 

"Then  come  up  to  dinner  that  evening ;  we  dine  at  six. 
iWe  will  all  go  together." 

"Am  I  to  go?"  asked  Fred. 

"There  will  be  a  ticket  for  you,  if  you  would  like  to 
go,  though  I  am  afraid  you  won't  enjoy  the  classical 
music  you  will  hear." 


A  Pleasant  Evening.  97 

•*No  matter,"  said  Fred,  "I'll  go,  though  I'd  rather  go 
to  a  circus." 

"If  there  were  only  a  hand  organ,  Fred  would  enjoy 
5t,"  suggested  Laura. 


"Well,  Gilbert,  what  sort  of  a  time  did  you  have?" 
asked  Mr.  Ingalls,  when  his  roommate  returned. 

"Delightful!  I  am  going  to  dine  there  next  Wednes- 
day." 

"It  seems  to  me  you  are  making  a  favorable  impres- 
sion in  that  quarter." 

"I  hope  so." 

A  knock  was  heard  at  the  door. 

"Come  in,"  said  Mr.  Ingalls. 

Mr.  Alphonso  Jones  opened  the  door  and  entered. 

"Excuse  my  late  intrusion,  gents,"  he  said.  "And 
bow  did  you  find  the  Vivians,  Mr.  Greyson?" 

"Very  well,  thank  you." 

"They  are  very  high-toned  people." 

"I  presume  so,  but  I  am  not  much  of  a  judge,"  said 
Gilbert. 

"Probably,"  said  Mr.  Ingalls,  "you  do  not  know  as 
many  of  that  class  as  Mr.  Jones.  Did  you  find  the 
Montmorencys  well,  Mr.  Jones?" 

"Quite  so,  thank  you.  Mrs.  Montmorency  has  had  a 
bad  cold ;  but  she  has  quite  recovered  now.  They  talk 
Of  going  to  Europe  next  summer." 

"Do  they,  indeed  ?    How  you  will  miss  them !" 

"To,  be  sure.    However,  I  have  many  other  friends  in 


98  A  Pleasant  Evening. 

the  first  circles  whom  I  can  visit.  I  suppose,  Mr.  Grey- 
son,  the  Vivians  have  a  fine  house  ?" 

"It   seems   very   comfortable." 

"The  Montmorencys  live  in  a  perfect  palace.  I  wish 
you  could  see  it." 

"I  wish  I  could,  Mr.  Jones,"  said  Mr.  Ingalls;  "but 
you  wouldn't  take  me,  you  know." 

"I  couldn't,  Mr.  Ingalls,  as  I  explained  to  you.  They, 
We  so  exclusive." 

"I  wonder  visiting  such  fine  houses  doesn't  make  you 
dissatisfied  with  your  own  home." 

"Oh !  my  tastes  are  very  plain,"  said  Alphonso. 

"  'Mid  pleasures  and  palaces  though  I  may  roam, 
Be  it  ever  so  humble,  there's  no  place  like  home.' " 

"Some  of  your  own  poetry,  Mr.  Jones?"  asked  Mr. 
Ingalls,  demurely. 

"No,  it's  Shakespeare  or  Byron,"  answered  Jones;  "I 
(forget  which.  Good-evening,  gents." 

"Would  you  like  to  know  where  Mr.  Jones  spent  the 
evening,  Gilbert?"  asked  his  roommate. 

"On  Fifth  Avenue?" 

"No.  Mr.  Tarbox  followed  him,  and  saw  him  enter  a 
billiard  saloon  on  the  Bowery.  Jones  is  a  first-class  hum- 
bug." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

AT     STEINWAY     HALL. 

Simon  Moore,  the  bookkeeper  in  the  broker's  office 
where  Gilbert  was  employed,  was  a  young  man,  some- 
what under  thirty.  He  understood  his  business  very 
well,  and  thus  far  had  given  satisfaction  to  Mr.  Sands. 
Personally,  however,  he  was  not  agreeable.  He  was  ir- 
ritable and  exacting,  and  had  not  been  liked  even  by  his 
cousin  John,  when  the  latter  was  office  boy.  Now,  how- 
ever, that  John  had  been  discharged,  the  bookkeeper,  as 
we  have  seen,  made  common  cause  with  him,  and  John 
came  to  look  upon  him  as  a  friend. 

In  this  Moore  was  not  altogether  disinterested.  John's 
mother,  who  was  his  aunt,  kept  a  boarding  house,  and 
found  it  difficult  to  meet  her  expenses.  John's  wages, 
though  small,  were  important  to  her,  and  now  that  she 
^was  deprived  of  this  resource,  her  nephew  feared  that  he 
might  be  called  on  for  assistance.  It  was  in  order  to 
save  his  own  purse  that  he  desired  to  reinstate  John  in 
his  old  place.  The  readiest  method  that  occurred  to  him 
was  to  prejudice  Mr.  Sands  against  Gilbert. 

"Are  you  going  out  this  evening,  Cousin  Simon?"  aske^ 
John  one  evening. 

"I  may  go  out  by  and  by." 

"May  I  go  with  you?" 

"If  you  want  to." 

Simon  Moore  was  not  always  wflfing  to  "be  troubled 


ioo  At  Steinway  Hall. 

with  his  cousin,  but  this  evening  he  chanced  to  be  in  a 
pleasanter  humor  than  usual. 

"I  have  tickets  to  a  concert,  John,"  he  said.  "Would 
you  like  to  go?" 

"Very  much,"  answered  John,  readily. 

"The  tickets  were  given  me  by  a  friend  of  mine,  who  is 
on  the  Times"  explained  Moore. 

"Where  is  the  concert,  Cousin  Simon?" 

"At  Steinway  Hall." 

It  was,  in  fact,  the  same  concert  to  which  Gilbert  was 
invited  by  Mr.  Vivian. 

The  bookkeeper  was  not  remarkable  for  his  liberality, 
and  John  had  been  not  a  little  surprised  at  receiving  the 
invitation,  until  he  learned  that  the  tickets  had  cost  his 
cousin  nothing. 

Eight  o'clock  found  them  in  their  seats  at  Steinway 
Hall.  The  concert  did  not  commence  punctually,  and 
they  had  some  time  to  look  about  them. 

"Do  you  see  anyone  you  know,  Cousin  Simon  ?"  asked 
John. 

"Yes,"  said  the  bookkeeper,  "I  see  a  particular  friend 
of  yours." 

"A  particular  friend  of  mine !"  repeated  John,  puzzled. 
"Where?" 

"Five  rows  in  front  of  this.  There,  near  the  center 
of  the  hall." 

"I  don't  see  anybody  I  know." 

"It  is  Gilbert  Greyson,  your  successor  in  our  office." 

"It  is  he,  I  declare.    He  is  talking  to  a  pretty  girl 


At  Steinway  Hall.  XOX 

"That  girl  is  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Vivian,  tin,  great 
importer." 

"You  don't  say  so.  How  on  earth  did  he  come  to 
know  her?" 

"I  can't  say,"  answered  Moore,  coldly.  "He  is  a 
very  forward,  pushing  fellow.  That  may  explain  it." 

"I  hate  him,"  said  John. 

"I  don't  love  him  overmuch  myself,"  said  Moore. 

John  and  his  cousin  were  not  the  only  acquaintances 
who  recognized  Gilbert  on  that  evening. 

Randolph  and  his  mother  sat  two  rows  behind  the 
Vivians.  Mr.  Briggs  had  intended  to  come,  but  had  a 
headache.  He  had  suggested  that  the  extra  ticket  be  sent 
to  Gilbert;  but  Mrs.  Briggs  had  decisively  objected. 

"I  don't  care  about  having  that  boy  seen  with  us  in 
Steinway  Hall,"  she  said. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Mr.  Briggs. 

"I  don't  fancy  him.  Besides,  he  would  be  presuming 
on  our  kindness." 

"I  don't  think  he  is  the  kind  of  boy  to  do  that,"  said 
Mr.  Briggs,  who  understood  Gilbert  much  better  than 
his  wife.  "It  is  a  pity  the  ticket  should  not  be  used." 

"If  it  were  in  a  different  part  of  the  house,  away  from 
our  seats,  I  should  not  care  particularly,"  said  Mrs. 
Briggs.  "If  he  went  with  us,  he  might  be  thought  to 
be  a  near  relative.'* 

"I  don't  think  he  would  do  us  any  discredit,  either  in 
appearance  or  in  manners,"  said  her  husband. 

"You  are  simply  infatuated  with  that  boy,  Mr.  Briggfc. 
I  am  sure  Randolph  doesn't  want  his  company." 


102  At  Steinway  Hall. 

"No,  I  don't,"  said  Randolph. 

"Like  mother,  like  son,"  thought  Mr.  Briggs;  but  for 
the  sake  of  peace,  he  did  not  think  it  best  to  press  the 
matter. 

Soon  after  Randolph  and  his  mother  took  their  seats, 
the  former  discovered  Gilbert  sitting  nearly  in  front  of 
him. 

"He's  here,  after  all,  mother,"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  low 


"Who  is  here,  Randolph?" 

"Gilbert  Greyson.     Don't  you  see  him?" 

"He's  with  the  Vivians,  too!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Briggs* 
unpleasantly  surprised.  "That  boy  doesn't  appear  to  have 
a  particle  of  shame." 

"He  needn't  be  ashamed  of  his  company.  I  wish  I 
jwere  in  his  place." 

"I  don't  mean  that.  He  probably  hinted  to  Mr.  Vivian 
to  take  him,  and  he  couldn't  very  well  refuse." 

"Very  likely,"  said  Randolph.  "He's  got  plenty  of 
cheek." 

Both  mother  and  son  could  see  that  Gilbert  and  Laura 
Vivian  were  conversing  pleasantly,  judging  from  the 
smiles  on  the  faces  of  each. 

"Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vivian  are  not  very  wise  in  permitting 
such  an  intimacy  between  their  daughter  and  a  penniless 
boy,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs,  frowning.  "Some  people  are 
Irery  unwise." 

"I  dare  say  he  pretends  he  is  rich,  and  boasts  of  father's 
kcing  his  guardian,"  suggested  Randolph. 

"I  dare  say  you  are  correct,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs.    "If  ( 


At  Steinway  Hall.  103 

knew  Mrs.  Vivian,  I  would  correct  that  wrong  impres- 
sion." 

Here  the  music  commenced,  and  the  two  were  silent. 

Randolph  cared  very  little  for  the  music,  which  was  too 
classical  to  suit  his  taste.  He  did  not  expect  to  like  it, 
but  he  went  because  he  knew  that  the  audience  would  be 
a  fashionable  one,  and  he  liked  to  be  seen  on  such  occa- 
sions. Gilbert  had  more  musical  taste,  and  appreciated  the 
greater  part  of  what  he  had  heard. 

When  the  concert  was  over,  he  thanked  Mr.  Vivian  cor- 
dially for  the  invitation. 

"I  have  had  a  very  pleasant  evening,  thanks  to  you, 
sir,"  he  said. 

"I  am  glad  you  have  enjoyed  it,"  said  Mr.  Vivian, 
kindly.  "Come  and  see  us  soon." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

Just  after  this  parting,  Gilbert  fell  in  with  Mrs.  Briggs 
and  Randolph. 

"Good-evening,  Mrs.  Briggs,"  he  said,  politely.  "Good- 
evening,  Randolph.  Where  were  you  sitting?  I  did  not 
see  you." 

"We  saw  you,"  said  Randolph.  "You  were  nearly  in 
front  of  us." 

"Did  Mr.  Vivian  invite  you  to  come?"  asked  Mrs. 
Briggs,  coldly. 

"Yes,  madam." 

"You  are  making  the  most  of  your  chance  meeting 
with  them." 

There  was  something  unpleasant  in  her  tone,  and  Gil- 
bert detected  it. 


104  At  Steinway  Hall. 

"They  have  been  very  kind  and  polite  to  me,"  he  an- 
swered, in  a  reserved  tone. 

"I  would  not  advise  you  to  presume  upon  it  too  far," 
continued  Mrs.  Briggs. 

"I  don't  intend  to,  madam,"  said  Gilbert,  stiffly.  "I 
don't  think  I  have." 

"You  seemed  very  attentive  to  Laura,"  said  Randolph, 
with  a  characteristic  sneer. 

"It  was  my  duty  to  be  polite,"  said  Gilbert. 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  street,  and  Gilbert 
said :  "Good-evening." 

Neither  Mrs.  Briggs  nor  Randolph  invited  him  to  call, 
though  the  fact  that  Mr.  Briggs  was  still  his  guardian 
would  have  made  such  an  invitation  only  an  act  of  ordi- 
nary politeness. 

As  he  made  his  way  toward  Fourth  Avenue,  Gilbert 
brushed  against  Simon  Moore  and  John;  but  having  his 
mind  occupied,  he  did  not  notice  them. 

"There  he  goes !"  said  John,  enviously.  "I  wish  I  had 
as  much  cheek  as  that  fellow  has." 

"You've  got  a  fair  amount,  John,"  said  his  cousin, 
dryly. 

"I  didn't  know  it,"  said  John,  aggrieved. 

"Never  mind,  John,"  said  the  bookkeeper,  with  un- 
wonted good  humor.  "Suppose  we  go  in  somewhere  and 
have  oysters.  I  feel  hungry." 

"So  do  I,"  said  John,  briskly.  "I  know  a  bully  place 
near  by." 

"If  it's  a  good  place,  you  can  lead  me  there.  While 
We  are  discussing  the  oysters,  I  have  a  little  plan  to 


At  Steinway  Hall.  105 

tell  you  about,  that  may  give  you  back  your  place  at  our 
office." 

"Goodl"  said  John.  "You're  a  true  friend,  Cousin 
Simon." 

Ten  minutes  later  they  were  sitting  in  a  curtained 
compartment,  in  a  saloon  famous  for  the  excellence  of  its 
oysters. 

In  the  next  compartment,  two  minutes  previous,  Mr. 
Sands,  the  broker,  had  taken  his  seat  and  given  his  order; 
but  of  this  neither  John  nor  his  cousin  had  the  slightest 
suspicion. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A    PLOT    AGAINST    GILBERT. 

The  next  day  Mr.  Sands  received  an  unexpected  sum- 
mons to  Washington.  A  brother,  who  was  clerk  in  one 
of  the  departments,  was  seriously  ill,  and  he  was  sum- 
moned to  his  bedside. 

"How  long  shall  you  be  absent,  sir?"  inquired  Simon 
IMoore. 

"I  cannot  say ;  it  will  depend  on  how  I  find  my  brother. 
Keep  me  apprised  of  what  is  going  on  by  letter,  and,  if 
necessary,  by  telegraph." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Simon,  cheerfully ;  "you  may  rely  upon 
me." 

"Where  is  Gilbert?" 

"Gone  to  the  post  office." 

"I  have  sometimes  thought,  Mr.  Moore,  that  you  were 
prejudiced  against  the  boy." 

"I  was  at  first,  sir,"  said  Moore;  "but  on  the  whole 
he  seems  faithful,  and  disposed  to  do  his  duty." 

Mr.  Sands  smiled  slightly,  but  this  Mr.  Moore  did  not 
Observe. 

"I  think  well  of  him  myself,"  he  said. 

"If  he  does  well,  he  won't  have  reason  to  complain  of 
me,"  said  the  bookkeeper. 

Again  Mr.  Sands  smiled,  but  said  nothing.  Just  as 
lie  was  leaving  the  office  for  the  cars,  Gilbert  returned. 

"I   wish,   Gilbert,   you   would   accompany  me   to  the 


A  Plot  Against  Gilbert.  107 

Courtlandt  Street  Ferry,"  said  his  employer.  "I  am  going 
to  Washington  this  afternoon." 

"Indeed,  sir !" 

"I  am  summoned  to  my  brother's  sick  bed." 

"When  did  you  hear  of  his  sickness,  sir?"  asked  Gil- 
bert, in  a  sympathizing  tone. 

"A  week  since;  but  last  evening  I  learned,  by  a  tele- 
gram, that  he  is  dangerously  sick." 

By  this  time  they  were  on  their  way  to  the  ferry. 

"You  may  take  my  valise,  Gilbert,"  said  the  broker, 
"if  you  are  willing." 

"Certainly,  sir,"  said  Gilbert,  politely.  "I  hope  you 
Hvill  find  your  brother  better." 

"I  certainly  hope  so.  He  would  be  a  great  loss  to  his 
family.  By  the  way,  how  are  you  getting  on  with  Mr. 
Moore?" 

"I  hardly  know,  sir,"  said  Gilbert.  "I  don't  think 
lie  likes  me." 

"Have  you  done  anything  to  offend  him?" 

"Not  that  I  am  aware  of.  I  have  always  treated  him 
jwith  respect  " 

"That  is  right.  If  you  get  into  any  trouble  with  him 
while  I  am  away,  come  to  me  after  I  return,  and  tell  me 
ell  about  it." 

Gilbert  looked  surprised,  but,  of  course,  promised  to 
do  so. 

"I  shall  try  not  to  get  into  any  disturbance,"  he  said. 

"I  hope  you  won't,  but  I  fancy  you  will,"  said  his  em- 
ployen 

"I  hope  you  don't  think  I  am  quarrelsome,  Mr.  Sands." 


io8  A  Plot  Against  Gilbert, 

"No;  that  is  not  my  reason.  I  will  say  no  more  at 
present,  except  to  request  you,  if  anything  happens,  to 
give  me  a  truthful  and  detailed  account  of  it  when  I 
return." 

"Thank  you,  sir,  I  will,"  said  Gilbert,  who,  though 
puzzled,  felt  that  his  employer  was  friendly  toward  him. 

Gilbert  waited  till  the  boat  started,  and  then  returned 
to  the  office.  He  regretted  Mr.  Sands'  absence,  for  some- 
thing told  him  that  Mr.  Moore  would  make  it  very  dis- 
agreeable for  him  while  he  was  gone.  Indeed,  the  book- 
keeper was  not  long  in  showing  his  state  of  feeling  to- 
ward our  hero.  As  Gilbert  entered,  he  looked  up  sharply 
from  his  desk. 

"So  you  are  back  at  last?"  he  said,  unpleasantly. 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Gilbert. 

"I  thought  you  intended  to  remain  away  all  day." 

"Mr.  Sands  desired  me  to  go  to  the  ferry  with  him.** 

"He  didn't  desire  you  to  stop  to  play  on  the  way 
home." 

"Did  you  see  me  playing  on  the  way  home?"  de- 
manded Gilbert,  provoked. 

"How  could  I,  when  I  was  at  work  in  the  office?" 

"Has  anyone  reported  to  you  that  I  stopped  to  play?* 

"No." 

"Then  why  do  you  charge  me  with  it  ?" 

"Look  here,  young  man,  I  advise  you  not  to  try  any  ol 
your  impudence  on  me !"  said  Simon  Moore,  who,  know- 
ing himself  in  the  wrong,  was  all  the  more  angry.  "T 
tell  you,  once  for  all,  that  I  won't  stand  it." 


A  Plot  Against  Gilbert  109 

"I  don't  intend  to  be  impudent,  Mr.  Moore;  but  I  do 
expect  decent  treatment  from  you." 

"You  are  showing  your  hand  pretty  quick,  young  man. 
No  sooner  does  Mr.  Sands  leave  the  city,  than  you  begin 
to  put  on  your  airs.  I  shall  take  care  to  report  your  con- 
duct to  him." 

"I  have  neither  done  nor  said  anything  that  I  am 
ashamed  to  have  reported  to  him." 

"Shut  up !"  said  Moore,  sharply. 

Gilbert  saw  that  there  was  no  use  in  prolonging  the  dis- 
pute, and  quietly  went  about  his  duties.  While  he  was 
absent  on  an  errand,  a  little  later,  his  predecessor,  John, 
looked  in  the  door,  and,  seeing  his  cousin  alone,  entered. 

"Good-morning,  Cousin  Simon,"  he  said.  "Where  is 
Mr.  Sands?" 

"Gone  to  Washington." 

"He  has  ?    How  long  will  he  be  gone  ?* 

"A  week,  perhaps." 

John's  eyes  sparkled. 

"That's  favorable  for  us,  isn't  it?"  he  said. 

Simon  Moore  nodded  significantly. 

"You  are  right  there,"  he  said.  "When  he  gets  back, 
Gilbert  Greyson  won't  be  here." 

"You'll  do  what  we  were  talking  about  last  evening?" 

"Yes,  I  shall  have  plenty  of  chances  while  Sands  ia 
mway." 

"Can't  you  manage  it  to-day?" 

"No,  it  would  look  suspicious;  I  don't  want  Mr.  Sands 
to  suspect  anything." 

"How  soon,  then?" 


Iio  A  Plot  Against  Gilbert 

"Say  day  after  to-morrow.  In  order  to  avert  sus- 
picion, I  will  in  my  letter  of  to-morrow  speak  a  good 
word  for  Gilbert — say  he's  doing  better  than  I  anticipated, 
or  something  of  that  sort.  The  next  day  the  explosion 
will  come." 

"You'll  bounce  Gilbert?" 

"Yes,  I'll  take  that  upon  myself,  and  explain  to  Sandi 
when  he  returns.  Ten  to  one  he  won't  interfere  then." 

"And  you'll  take  me  in  Gilbert's  place?" 

"Yes,  I'll  do  that,  too.  But  you  must  do  better  than 
you  did  last  time.  The  fact  is,  John,  you  were  lazy  and 
careless.  I  was  sorry  to  have  you  go,  as  you  are  my 
cousin;  but  I  couldn't  blame  Mr.  Sands  much." 

"Oh!  I'll  turn  over  a  new  leaf,  Cousin  Simon,"  said 
John,  readily.  "You  shan't  have  anything  to  complain 
of." 

"I  hope  not." 

Here  Gilbert  returned  from  his  errand,  and  the  con- 
versation necessarily  closed. 

Gilbert  nodded  politely  to  John,  though  he  took  no  par- 
ticular fancy  to  him. 

"So  the  boss  is  away  ?"  said  John,  sociably. 

"Yes,  he  has  been  called  away." 

"I  suppose  you  are  glad  of  it?" 

"Why  should  I  be?" 

"When  the  cat's  away,  the  mice  can  play,  you  know." 

"This  mouse  does  not  care  about  playing,"  said  Gilbert, 
smiling. 

"Gilbert  is  a  model  boy,"  said  Simon  Moore,  with  a 
sneer. 


A  Plot  Against  Gilbert.  in 

*'I  never  set  up  for  one,"  said  John,  in  a  tone  of  con- 
gratulation. 

"I  should  say  not,"  sneered  the  bookkeeper,  who  could 
not  abstain  from  criticising  even  his  «ousin,  in  whose  favor 
he  was  intriguing  to  oust  Gilbert  from  his  position.  "How- 
ever, I'll  say  this  for  you,  that  you  are  not  a  hypocrite." 

"And  I  never  want  to  be,"  said  John,  virtuously. 

Of  course,  Gilbert  understood  that  here  was  another 
hit  at  him ;  but  he  was  discreet  enough  to  understand  that 
it  would  do  him  no  good  to  notice  it. 

Presently  John  turned  to  go. 

"Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you,  Cousin  Simon?* 
he  asked. 

"Not  to-day,"  answered  the  bookkeeper,  significantly. 
"You  can  look  round  again  in  a  day  or  two." 

"All  right." 

As  John  left  the  office,  a  small  bootblack  approached 
him. 

"Shine  yer  boots?"  he  asked. 

"Get  out  of  my  way!"  said  John,  crossly,  at  the  same 
time  lifting  his  foot  and  kicking  the  boy. 

"What  did  you  do  that  for?"  asked  the  boy,  angrily. 

"Because   I   pleased." 

"Then  take  that;"  and.  the  knight  of  the  brush 
Swiftly  touched  John's  cheek  with  the  dirty  brush,  leav- 
ing a  black  mark  upon  his  assailant's  cheek. 

John  would  have  renewed  the  attack,  but  a  chorus  of 
laughter  at  his  appearance  drove  him  back  into  the  office 
to  wash  off  the  black  mark. 


112  A  Plot  Against  Gilbert 

"I'll  wring  his  neck  when  I  get  a  chance,"  muttered 
John,  angrily. 

"He  wouldn't  have  touched  you,  if  you  had  let  him 
alone,"  said  Gilbert.    "Why  did  you  kick  him?" 

"Because  I  pleased.    Mind  your  business,  or  I 
kick  you,  too." 

".You'd  better  not,"  said  Gilbert,  quietly. 


CHAPTER  XVIt. 

THE    PLOT    SUCCEEDS. 

The  third  day  was  rainy,  and  Gilbert  wore  a  thin  over- 
coat, which,  on  arriving  at  the  office,  he  took  off  and  hung 
tip.  At  ten  o'clock  the  rain  ceased,  and  he  did  not  feel 
the  need  of  wearing  it  when  sent  out  on  errands. 

About  eleven  o'clock  John  sauntered  into  the  office. 

"You  may  go  round  to  the  post  office,  Gilbert,"  said 
the  bookkeeper. 

"Very  well,  sir." 

Gilbert  put  on  his  coat  and  went  out. 

"Isn't  it  about  time,  Cousin  Simon?"  asked  John,  sig- 
nificantly. 

"Yes,"  said  Moore. 

"How  shall  we  manage?" 

The  bookkeeper  took  from  his  pocket  a  ten-dollar  bill 
ftnd  handed  it  to  John. 

"That  is  Gilbert's  coat,"  be  said.  "Put  this  bill  into 
«me  of  the  pockets/' 

John  obeyed. 

"I  guess  that  will  fix  him,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  satis- 
faction. 

"I'll  manage  the  rest,"  said  the  bookkeeper.  "Stay 
found  here  till  Gilbert  gets  back,  and  we'll  bring  mat- 
ters to  a  crisis." 

Just  as  John  was  placing  the  bill  in  Gilbert's  coat 


H4  The  Plot  Succeeds. 

pocket,  the  little  bootblack  '^mentioned  at  the  close  of  the 
last  chapter  thrust  his  head  into  the  doorway. 

"Shine  yer  boots  ?"  he  asked. 

"Clear  out,  you  vagabond!"  said  the  bookkeeper,  ir- 
ritably. 

Tom,  for  that  was  his  name,  looked  inquisitively  about 
him  and  retired.  He  saw  that  there  was  no  chance 
for  business.  He  recognized  John  as  the  one  who  had 
kicked  him  the  day  before. 

"I  wonder  what  he  was  putting  into  the  coat,"  he 
thought ;  but  dismissed  the  thought  as  not  concerning  hint 
till  afterward. 

"Did  he  notice  what  I  was  doing  ?"  thought  John,  witK 
momentary  uneasiness.  "But,  of  course,  he  wouldn't 
understand,"  he  felt,  with  quick  relief. 

A  few  minutes  elapsed,  and  Gilbert  returned,  bringing 
home  the  mail. 

"All  right!"  said  Moore;  "wait  a  minute,  and  I  shall 
want  to  send  you  out  again." 

"Oh !  by  the  way,  Gilbert,"  he  said,  after  a  moment's 
pause,  "have  you  seen  anything  of  a  ten-dollar  bill? — I 
laid  one  on  the  desk  an  hour  ago,  and  now  it  has  dis- 
appeared." 

"I  haven't  seen  it,  sir." 

"Won't  you  look  on  the  floor  ?    It  may  have  dropped.1* 

Gilbert  searched,  but,  of  course,  unsuccessfully. 

"That  is  strange,"  said  the  bookkeeper.  "I  remember 
distinctly  placing  the  bill  on  the  desk;  have  you  seen  it, 
John?" 

"No,  Cousin  Simon." 


The  Plot  Succeeds.  115 

"It  is  very  mysterious,"  mused  the  bookkeeper. 

"I  hope  you  don't  suspect  me  of  taking  it,  Cousin 
Simon,"  said  John,  who  had  been  instructed  what  to  say. 

"Of  course  not." 

John  began  to  turn  his  pockets  inside  out. 

"I  want  you  to  search  me,"  he  said ;  "if  you  don't,  you 
may  think  I  took  it,  after  all." 

"I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing,  John,"  said  Simon 
Moore. 

"I  am  sure  Gilbert  and  I  would  prefer  to  be  searched," 
persisted  John,  looking  toward  Gilbert  as  he  spoke. 

Gilbert  colored,  for  it  was  not  agreeable  to  him  to  fall 
under  suspicion,  but  he  answered,  quietly:  "I  am  quite 
ready  to  be  searched." 

"I  don't  think  it  at  all  necessary,"  said  Simon  Moore; 
"but  if  you  boys  insist  upon  it,  I  will  do  it.  It  is  cer- 
tainly strange  that  the  bill  should  have  disappeared,  and 
left  no  trace  behind.  Gilbert,  will  you  search  John,  and 
then  he  shall  search  you." 

"If  you  desire  it,  Mr.  Moore,"  said  Gilbert;  "but  I  don't 
believe  John  took  the  bill,  and  I  am  sure  I  didn't." 

Gilbert  proceeded  to  search  John,  the  latter  assisting 
him.  A  jackknife,  a  couple  of  keys,  a  handkerchief  and 
twenty-five  cents  in  money  were  all  that  he  found. 

"I'm  not  very  rich,"  said  John,  smiling.  "I  don't  mind 
saying  that  the  ten  dollars  would  be  very  acceptable,  but 
I  haven't  got  it ;  .are  you  satisfied  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Gilbert,  "you  haven't  got  it,  and  I  didn't 
think  you  had ;  you  may  search  me  now-" 


Xi6  The  Plot  Succeeds. 

John  conducted  the  search  carelessly,  for  he  knew,  be- 
forehand, what  the  result  would  be." 

"I  don't  find  it,"  he  said.  "Where  can  the  bill  be? 
Are  you  sure  you  didn't  put  it  back  into  your  own  pocket, 
Cousin  Simon?" 

"Quite  sure.  By  the  way,  Gilbert,  didn't  you  wear 
an  overcoat?" 

"Yes,  sir ;  there  it  is,  hanging  up." 

"John,  you  had  better  examine  that,  also,  that  the  search 
may  be  thorough." 

"Certainly,"  said  Gilbert,  little  dreaming  of  what  was  in 
Store  for  him. 

John  plunged  his  hand  into  one  pocket  and  found  noth- 
ing; then  into  the  other,  and  drew  out  the  ten-dollar  bill. 

"What's  this  ?"  he  asked,  pretending  to  be  surprised. 

"Let  me  see  it,"  said  Gilbert,  overcome  with  surprise. 

"Let  me  see  it,"  said  Simon  Moore,  sharply. 

"It's  a  ten-dollar  bill,"  said  John,  looking  at  it  more 
Closely. 

"It's  the  note  I  missed,"  said  the  bookkeeper,  taking  it 
Into  his  hands.  "What  have  you  to  say  to  this,  Grey- 
son?"  he  demanded,  sternly. 

"I  have  this  to  say,"  said  Gilbert,  a  little  pale,  as  was 
natural,  "that  I  don't  know  anything  about  that  bill,  or 
how  it  came  in  my  coat  pocket." 

"I  suppose  not,"  sneered  the  bookkeeper. 

"I  am  willing  to  swear  to  it,"  said  Gilbert,  recovering 
Ilis  firmness. 

"A  boy  that  steals  money  cannot  expect  to  be  be- 
lieved, even  upon  oafh,"  said  the  bookkeeper. 


The  Plot  Succeeds.  117 

"Do  you  believe  I  took  that  money,  John  ?"  asked  Gil- 
bert. 

"You  mustn't  ask  me,"  said  John.  "I  didn't  think 
you'd  do  such  a  thing,  Gilbert,  but  it  looks  mighty  sus- 
picious." 

"I  never  stole  a  penny  in  my  life,"  said  Gilbert,  hotly. 

"Do  you  claim  this  money  as  yours?"  asked  the  book- 
keeper. 

"No,  I  don't."      , 

"Then  how  came  it  in  your  pocket?  It  couldn't  have 
got  there  without  hands." 

A  light  dawned  upon  Gilbert's  mind ;  a  suspicion  of  the 
truth  flashed  upon  him. 

"It  is  true,"  he  said,  significantly.  "Somebody  must 
have  put  it  into  my  pocket." 

"And  that  somebody  was  yourself,*'  said  Moore, 
sharply. 

"Of  course  it  was,"  chimed  in  John. 

Gilbert  looked  slowly  from  one  to  the  other.  There  was 
something  in  their  faces  that  revealed  all  to  him. 

"I  think  I  understand,"  he  said.  "You  two  have  formed 
a  conspiracy  to  ruin  me.  I  see  it  now." 

"If  you  speak  in  that  way  again,"  said  Moore,  in  a  rage, 
"I  will  kick  you  out  of  the  office." 

"I  should  like  to  have  you  refer  the  matter  to  Mr. 
Sands,"  said  Gilbert,  betraying  no  alarm.  "He  will  do 
me  justice." 

"I  ought  to  refer  the  matter  to  the  nearest  policeman,** 
Said  the  bookkeeper,  in  a  menacing  tone. 

"Do  -so*  if  you  like,"  said  Gilbert,  though  he  shrank 


The  Plot  Succeeds. 

with  natural  reluctance  from  being  arrested,  innocent  as 
he  knew  himself  to  be.  "I  am  not  without  powerful 
friends,  as  you  will  find." 

"Don't  have  him  arrested,  Cousin  Simon,"  said  John, 
with  apparent  compassion.  "He  has  given  up  the  money. 
Discharge  him,  and  let  him  go." 

This  was  what  Simon  Moore  had  already  determined 
to  do.  He  knew  very  well  that  in  any  legal  investiga- 
tion John  and  he  would  incur  suspicion,  and  for  prudential 
reasons,  he  preferred  not  to  court  any  such  publicity. 

"I  ought  to  arrest  you,"  he  said,  turning  to  Gilbert ;  "but 
I  will  have  pity  on  your  youth,  hoping  that  this  will  be 
your  last  offense.  I  shall,  of  course,  discharge  you,  since 
I  should  not  be  justified  in  retaining  you  under  the  cir- 
cumstances. I  will  report  to  Mr.  Sands  why  I  was  com- 
pelled to  dispense  with  your  services.  I  will  pay  you 
your  wages  up  to  to-day,  and  you  need  not  come  here 
again." 

"Don't  trouble  yourself  about  that,  Mr.  Moore,"  said 
Gilbert,  with  dignity.  "I  shall  report  to  Mr.  Sands  when 
he  returns,  and  abide  by  his  judgment." 

"You  had  better  not,"  said  Moore.  "I  advise  you 
for  your  own  good.  Mr.  Sands  will  still  have  it  in  his 
power  to  arrest  you;  your  best  course  will  be  to  leave 
{he  city,  and  go  to  some  place  where  you  are  not  known." 

"I  shall  remain  in  the  city,  and  can  be  found,  if  wanted," 
aaid  Gilbert,  boldly.  "The  day  will  come,  Mr.  Moore, 
when  my  innocence  will  be  known  by  all." 

Moore  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  have  heard  such  things  before,"  he  said.    "Y  jfc  can 


The  Plot  Succeeds.  119 

go.  John,  I  will  employ  you  temporarily,  in  Gilbert's 
place." 

"I  understand  your  object  now,  Mr.  Moore,"  said 
Gilbert,  looking  significantly  at  John. 

"Begone,  or  I  will  yet  have  you  arrested,"  said  the 
bookkeeper,  angrily. 

Gilbert  put  on  his  coat  and  hat,  and  walked  out  of  the 


CHAPTER  XVIII, 

AN      HUMBLE     FRIEND. 

Just  outside  the  office  from  which  he  had  been  dis« 
charged,  Gilbert  was  accosted  by  Tom,  the  bootblack. 

"Shine  yer  boots?" 

Gilbert  shook  his  head. 

"Only  five  cents,  mister — that's  half  price." 

"That's  cheap  enough,"  said  Gilbert;  "but  I've  just  lost 
iny  place,  and  I  cannot  afford  to  pay  even  that." 

"Been  bounced?"  asked  Tom. 

"Yes." 

"What  for?" 

Gilbert  hesitated.  He  did  not  like  to  admit  that  he  had 
keen  suspected  of  dishonesty;  still,  he  was  innocent,  and 
had  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of  in  the  matter.  He  accord- 
ingly related  what  had  happened. 

Tom  whistled. 

"Did  you  say  the  money  was  found  in  your  pocket?" 
he  asked. 

"In  the  pocket  of  my  overcoat,"  he  replied. 

"And  was  your  coat  hanging  up?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  I  know  how  the  money  got  there." 

"You  know  how  the  money  got  into  my  pocket?"  re* 
peated  Gilbert,  in  surprise. 

"Yes,  the  other  boy  put  it  there." 

"What  other  boy— the  boy  that's  in  the  office?* 


An   Humble  Friend.  121 

"Yes;  his  name  is  John." 

"How  did  you  happen  to  see  him  do  it?"  asked  Gil- 
bert, eagerly. 

"I  went  to  the  door  to  see  if  the  bookkeeper  didn't  want 
a  shine;  just  as  I  was  looking  in,  I  see  that  boy,  John,  go 
to  a  coat,  and  put  a  bill  into  the  pocket.  I  thought  it 
was  his  coat,  and  wondered  what  made  him  keep  his 
money  loose  in  that  way.  Did  he  say  you  put  it  there?" 

"Yes." 

"He  wanted  you  bounced — that's  what's  the  matter.'* 

"You  are  right;  he  wanted  the  place  himself,  and  now 
he's  got  it." 

"Just  you  go  back  and  tell  the  bookkeeper  all  about  it, 
and  I'll  stand  by  you,"  suggested  Tom. 

Gilbert  shook  his  head. 

"It  won't  do,"  he  said.  "John  is  Mr.  Moore's  cousin, 
and  I  feel  sure  they  are  both  in  the  plot ;  they  would  say 
you  were  lying." 

"Let  'em  say  it,"  said  Tom.  "Ill  punch  their  heads 
if  they  do." 

Gilbert  smiled  at  the  zeal  of  his  humble  friend.  "I  ara 
afraid  that  would  do  neither  of  us  any  good,"  he  said. 

"Won't  you  do  nothin',  then  ?"  asked  Tom,  disappointed. 
"Will  you  stay  bounced?" 

"Yes,  till  Mr.  Sands  comes  back." 

"Is  he  the  boss?" 

"Yes;  he  is  now  in  Washington,  and  may  not  return 
for  several  days.     When  he  comes  back,  I  sbp11  want  you 
to  tell  him  all  you  saw." 
-  "I'll -do  it,"  said  Tom. 


122  An  Humble  Friend. 

''What  is  your  name  ?  Where  can  I  find  you,  if  I  want 
you  ?" 

"I  hang  out  at  the  Newsboys'  Lodge.  My  name  it 
Tom  Connor." 

"Thank  you,  Tom;  I'm  very  glad  I  met  you.  Your 
testimony  will  be  valuable  to  me.  Don't  say  anything 
about  it  to  anybody  else  at  present.  I  want  to  surprise 
them." 

"All  right." 

"I  think  I  will  have  a  shine,  after  all,"  said  Gilbert, 
•wishing  to  repay  his  new  friend  by  a  little  patronage. 

"I'll  make  your  boots  shine  so  you  can  see  your  face  in 
*em,"  said  Tom,  dropping  on  his  knees,  and  proceeding  to 
his  task  energetically. 

"That  will  save  me  the  expense  of  a  looking-glass,"  said 
Gilbert. 

"So  it  will,"  said  Tom. 

When  the  last  was  completed,  Gilbert  drew  ten  cents 
from  his  pocket,  and  extended  it  toward  Tom,  but,  to  his 
surprise,  the  bootblack  did  not  offer  to  take  it. 

"Never  mind,"  said  he,  "I  don't  want  no  pay." 

"Why,  not  ?  You  have  earned  it,"  said  Gilbert,  won- 
dering at  the  refusal. 

"You're  bounced,  and  ain't  got  no  money  to  spare.  I'll 
wait  till  you've  got  your  place  again." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  said  Gilbert,  grateful  for  the  con- 
siderate sympathy  of  his  humble  present;  "but  I  am  not 
so  badly  off  as  some,  for  I  have  no  board  to  pay.  You'd 
better  take  the  money." 

"I'll  take  five  cents,"  said  Tom;  "that'll  be  enough. 


An  Humble  Friend.  123 

I'd  rather  work  for  you  for  nothin'  than  for  that  other 
feller  for  full  price." 

"You  don't  like  him,  then  ?    Did  he  ever  employ  you  ?" 

"He  kicked  me  yesterday;  but  I  got  even  with  him," 
he  added,  in  a  tone  of  satisfaction. 

"How  did  you  get  even  with  him?" 

"I  blacked  his  face  for  him,"  said  Tom,  brandishing 
the  brush. 

Gilbert  laughed. 

"He  didn't  fancy  that,  I  suppose?" 

"He  had  to  go  back  and  wash  his  face,"  said  Tom, 
laughing  at  the  recollection. 

"Well,  Tom,  good-by,"  said  Gilbert,  preparing  to  go. 
"I'll  hunt  you  up  when  Mr.  Sands  gets  back." 

"You'll  find  me  round  here  somewhere;  this  is  where 
I  stand." 

Gilbert  walked  away,  feeling  considerably  more  cheer- 
ful and  hopeful  than  before  his  interview  with  Tom. 
Now  he  felt  that  he  had  at  hand  the  means  of  his  vin- 
dication, and  his  idleness  would  only  be  temporary.  He 
was  shocked  at  the  meanness  and  wickedness  of  John  and 
the  bookkeeper  in  forming  such  a  conspiracy  against  him, 
He  was  already  learning  the  lesson  of  distrust,  and  tha* 
is  never  a  pleasant  lesson  for  any  of  us.  Fortunately,  we 
need  not  distrust  everybody.  He  must  be  indeed  un- 
fortunate who  does  not  find  some  true  friends  to  keep  up 
his  faith  in  humanity.  Our  hero  had  found  one,  who, 
though  but  a  bootblack,  was  likely  to  be  of  essential  serv- 
ice to  him. 

It  is  said  that  ill  news  travels  fast.     That  very  evening 


124  An   Humble  Friend. 

Mrs.  Briggs  learned  that  Gilbert  had  lost  his  situation, 
and  from  what  cause.  It  happened  in  this  way. 

Randolph,  chancing  to  be  downtown,  it  occurred  to  him 
to  call  upon  Gilbert.  His  call  was  made  about  half  an 
hour  after  Gilbert  had  been  discharged. 

He  entered  the  office,  and,  looking  about,  saw  John,  who 
appeared  to  be  employed.  He  asked,  in  some  surprise: 
"Does  not  Gilbert  Greyson  work  here?" 

"No,"  answered  John,  promptly.     "Not  now." 

"How  is  that?" 

"He  was  discharged  this  morning.  Can  I  do  anything 
for  you?" 

"Discharged!"  exclaimed  Randolph,  much  surprised. 
"What  was  he  discharged  for?" 

Here  Simon  Moore  took  part  in  the  conversation. 

"Are  you  a  friend  of  Gilbert  Greyson?"  he  asked. 

"Ye-es,"  answered  Randolph,  in  a  tone  of  hesitation. 
"That  is,  he's  an  acquaintance  of  mine." 

"If  you  feel  interested  in  him,  I  have  unpleasant  news 
for  you." 

Randolph  pricked  up  his  ears. 

"What  has  happened  ?"  he  inquired. 

"To  be  brief,  I  am  afraid  your  friend  is  not  strictly 
honest." 

"You  don't  say  so !"  exclaimed  Randolph,  really  amazed. 
"He  hasn't  run  off  with  any  money,  has  he?" 

"He  isn't  very  much  interested  in  him,"  the  bookkeeper 
said  to  himself,  shrewdly.  "He  doesn't  say  anything  ip 
his  defense." 


An  Humble  Friend.  125 

"No;  but  I  am  afraid  he  would  if  the  theft  had  not 
been  detected  so  soon." 

"What  was  it — money  ?" 

"A  ten-dollar  bill,  which  I  laid  casually  on  the  desk, 
suddenly  disappeared.  It  was  found,  after  a  little  search, 
in  the  pocket  of  your  friend's  coat." 

"He  isn't  my  friend,  he  is  only  an  acquaintance,"  said 
Randolph.  "I  don't  know  much  about  him.  I  didn't 
think  he'd  steal,  though.  Did  he  own  up?" 

"Not  he;  he  was  too  brazen.  Mr.  Sands  was  absent 
from  the  city,  but  I  did  not  hesitate  to  discharge  him  at 
once.  In  our  business  a  boy  must  often  be  trusted  with 
sums  of  value,  and  I  should  not  feel  safe  in  continuing 
to  employ  him." 

"I  suppose  you're  right,"  said  Randolph.  "I  wonder 
what  father'll  say. 

"Well,  I  guess  I'll  be  going,"  he  continued.  "I  didn't 
expect  to  hear  such  news  of  Gilbert." 

"We  regret  it  very  much,"  said  the  bookkeeper,  hypo- 
critically. 

"Of  course,"  said  Randolph.  "Serves  him  right.  He 
shouldn't  have  made  such  a  fool  of  himself." 

"That  fellow  don't  care  much  about  Gilbert,  John,"  said 
Simon  Moore,  after  Randolph's  departure. 

"That's  so,"  said  John. 

"If  he  has  no  warmer  friends  than  that,  we  shan't 
have  any  applications  to  take  him  back." 

"I  hope  not,"  said  John.  "What  do  you  think  Mr. 
Sands  will  say  when  he  finds  me  here?" 

"If  I  tell  him  you  have  done  your  duty,  and  done  all 


126  An  Humble   Friend. 

I  required,  he'll  probably  keep  you.  You  must  do  better 
than  you  did  last  time.  No  fooling  away  your  time  in 
the  streets  when  you  are  sent  on  an  errand.  It  won't  do." 
"There  won't  be  any  trouble  about  me,"  said  John,  con- 
fidently. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A    DOMESTIC    DISCUSSION. 

Randolph  hurried  home  to  tell  his  mother  what  he  had 
heard  about  Gilbert's  loss  of  employment.  He  knew  well 
enough  her  feeling  toward  his  father's  ward  to  feel  sure 
that  it  would  be  welcome  intelligence. 

"Detected  in  stealing  money!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Briggs, 
triumphantly.  "Just  wnat  I  predicted  all  along.  I  am 
not  often  deceived  about  character." 

"I  never  heard  you  predict  it,  mother,"  said  Randolph. 

"It  was  only  because  I  did  not  like  to  speak  against 
the  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs,  only  slightly  discomfited.  "I 
(read  it  in  his  face  the  first  day  he  came  here.  I  saw  he 
Was  sly  and  underhanded." 

"Well,  I  didn't,"  said  Randolph,  who  was  less  malig- 
nant than  his  mother.  "I  never  thought  he  would  do 
such  a  thing.  I  didn't  like  him,  of  course,  but,  still,  I 
thought  he  was  honest." 

"I  have  lived  longer  in  the  world  than  you,  Ran- 
dolph," said  Mrs.  Briggs,  sagaciously,  "and  I  know  that 
appearances  are  deceitful.  I  am  not  so  easily  taken  in  as 
your  father.  He  has  been  infatuated  over  this  dis- 
reputable boy.  I  hope  the  knowledge  of  the  boy's  base- 
ness will  cure  him." 

"I  suppose  we  needn't  invite  Gilbert  to  my  party,  now  ?" 

"No,'  of  course  not,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs,  with  emphasis. 


128  A  Domestic  Discussion. 

"It  would  be  an  insult  to  you  to  invite  a  boy  convicted 
of  theft." 

"Father  may  insist  upon  it,"  said  Randolph. 

"Not  unless  he  is  bereft  of  his  senses,"  said  Mrs. 
Briggs.  "He  has  made  a  point  of  it  till  now;  but,  of 
course,  this  will  change  his  wishes." 

Randolph  did  not  reply;  but,  notwithstanding  his 
mother's  assurance,  he  felt  some  doubts  on  the  subject 
His  father  was,  in  general,  yielding  and  easily  managed; 
but,  as  is  often  the  case  with  such  men,  he  was,  at  times, 
unexpectedly  firm. 

This  conversation  took  place  just  before  dinner.  It  was 
interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Briggs,  who  went  up- 
stairs at  once  to  prepare  for  dinner.  Fifteen  minutes 
later  they  met  around  the  dinner  table.  By  arrangement 
with  Randolph,  Mrs.  Briggs  had  reserved  to  herself  the 
pleasure  of  imparting  to  her  husband  the  news  she  had 
heard. 

"I  have  heard  some  news  to-day,  Mr.  Briggs,"  she  com- 
menced, in  a  premonitory  tone. 

"Indeed,  my  dear!     Pleasant  news,  I  hope." 

"I  don't  think  it  will  be  pleasant  to  you,  though,  I  must 
confess,  it  is  only  what  I  have  all  along  anticipated." 

"You  speak  in  enigmas,  Mrs.  Briggs.  Will  you  kindly 
be  a  little  more  explicit?" 

"You  are  aware,  Mr.  Briggs,  that  I  have  always  had  a 
very  unfavorable  opinion  of  your  protege,  the  Grey  son 
boy?" 

"You  certainly  have  not  concealed  your  opinion  of  him," 


A  Domestic  Discussion.  129 

her  husband,  shrugging  his  shoulders.  "Yes,  I  may 
say  that  I  know  your  opinion  of  him." 

"I  suppose  you  call  it  prejudice,"  continued  the  lady. 

"Well,  it  certainly  seems  like  it,  not  being  founded  on 
the  knowledge  of  anything  to  his  detriment." 

"That  was  not  necessary.  There  is  such  a  thing  at 
reading  character.  I  judged  him  by  his  face." 

"He  seems  to  me  to  have  a  very  frank,  attractive  face." 

"As  you  read  it,"  said  his  wife,  contemptuously.  "Well, 
this  paragon  of  yours  has  lost  his  place." 

"He  has?"  inquired  Mr.  Briggs,  in  evident  surprise. 

"Yes,  he  has,  and  I  am  not  surprised  to  hear  it." 

"Do  you  know  why  he  was  discharged?" 

"He  was  detected  in  theft — stealing  a  large  sum  of 
money !"  answered  Mrs.  Briggs,  triumphantly. 

She  expected  that  her  husband  would  be  overwhelmed 
at  this  disclosure;  out  he  asked,  quite  calmly:  "How 
do  you  know  this?  Who  is  your  informant?" 

"Randolph." 

"What  do  you  know  of  this,  Randolph?"  asked  his 
father. 

Randolph  gave  his  father  an  account  of  his  visit  to  the 
office  of  Mr.  Sands,  and  the  information  given  him  there. 

"What  dd  you  say  to  that  ?"  demanded  Mrs.  Briggs,  in 
exultation.  "Does  that  change  your  opinion  of  your  par- 
agon?" 

"I  think  there  is  some  mistake  somewhere,"  said  Mr. 
Briggs. 

"Why  should  there  be  any  mistake  ?"  she  asked.  'Da 
YOU  think  Randolph  would  tell  a  lie  ?" 


130  A  Domestic  Discussion. 

"There  are  other  ways  6vf  accounting  for  the  mistake. 
I  have  no  idea  that  Gilbert  is  guilty  of  what  is  charged 
against  him." 

"Really,  this  is  absurd.  You  are  perfectly  infatuated 
with  this  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs,  angrily. 

"Mistakes  have  occurred  before,"  said  her  husband, 
with  provoking  calmness.  "I  will  investigate  the  matter." 

"I  don't  see  what  investigation  is  needed.  The  boy  hai 
stolen  the  money.  The  bookkeeper  told  Randolph  so." 

"The  bookkeeper  may  be  mistaken." 

"Not  much  chance  of  that." 

"Or  he  may  have  taken  the  money  himself  and  charged 
it  upon  Gilbert." 

"Really,  Mr.  Briggs,  you  are  very  perverse,"  said  his 
wife,  impatiently. 

"Because  I  am  not  ready  to  believe  Gilbert  a  thief  be* 
fore  he  is  proved  so." 

"After  he  has  been  proved  so." 

"There  would  be  no  need  of  trials  or  juries  if  you  were 
a  judge,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Briggs,  smiling.  "You  would 
be  for  sentencing  the  unfortunate  defendant  as  soon  as 
the  charge  had  been  brought  against  him." 

"Cherish  your  delusion  as  to  the  boy's  innocence  as 
much  as  you  like,  Mr.  Briggs;  but  there  is  one  thing 
which  you  will  certainly  concede." 

"What  is  that?" 

"Gilbert  Greyson  must  not  be  invited  to  Randolph'! 
party." 

"Why  not?" 

"A  common  thief— impossible  P 


A  Domestic  Discussion.  131 

"But,  suppose  he  is  wrongfully  accused?" 

"It  is  enough  that  he  is  accused,  and  probably  guilty." 

"I  will  investigate  the  matter,  Mrs.  Briggs.     If  I  am 

convinced  that  the  boy  is  innocent,  he  shall  be  invited." 
Mrs.  Briggs  was  about  to  make  an  indignant  protest, 

when  the  servant,  who  had  answered  the  doorbell,  opened 

the  door  and  ushered  in  the  innocent  cause  of  the  heated 

discussion — Gilbert  Greyson. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

A    FEMALE    FOE. 

There  was  a  moment  of  embarrassing  silenee  after  ':K« 
entrance  of  Gilbert.  Mrs.  Briggs,  as  she  afterward  ex- 
pressed it,  was  paralyzed  with  astonishment  at  the  ef- 
frontery of  the  boy.  Randolph  waited  with  curiosity  to 
hear  what  his  parents  would  say,  while  Mr.  Briggs  was 
silent  merely  because  he  was  taken  by  surprise.  He  was 
the  first  to  speak,  and  his  tone,  though  a  little  embarrassed, 
was  yet  not  without  kindness. 

"Good-evening,  Gilbert,"  he  said.  "Won't  you  sit  down 
and  have  some  dinner?" 

Mrs.  Briggs  looked  daggers  at  her  husband.  How 
CQuld  he  dream  of  extending  such  an  invitation  to  Gil- 
bert, under  the  circumstances. 

"No,  thank  you,"  said  Gilbert,  "I  have  already  dined." 

"Then  take  a  seat.     We  shall  soon  be  through  dinner." 

"This  is  an  unusual  time  to  call,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs, 
frigidly,  breaking  silence  for  the  first  time. 

"What  difference  does  it  make?"  interposed  her  hus- 
band. "Gilbert  is  not  a  stranger,  to  stand  on  ceremony." 

"So  it  appears,"  returned  his  wife,  in  the  same  un- 
pleasant tone. 

"I  ought  to  apologize  for  calling  during  your  dinner 
hour,"  said  Gilbert,  "but  I  wished  particularly  to  con- 
sult you  about  my  affairs." 

Of  course  this  was  addressed  to  Mr.  Briggs.    Mrs, 


A  Female  Foe.  133 

Briggs  was,  perhaps,  the  last  person  in  the  range  of  his 
acquaintance  whom  our  hero  would  have  cared  to  consult 

"Anything  new  with  you?"  asked  his  guardian,  in  at 
tone  of  slight  embarrassment. 

"Yes,"  answered  Gilbert,  frankly ;  "I  am  in  trouble." 

Mrs.  Briggs  glanced  meaningly  at  Randolph,  as  if  tO» 
say:  "Now,  it's  coming." 

"You  would,  perhaps,  wish  to  speak  to  me  alone,"  said 
Mr.  Briggs. 

"Oh !  if  you  have  any  secrets,  Randolph  and  I  can  with- 
draw," said  Mrs.  Briggs,  with  unnecessary  offense.  She 
would  have  been  deeply  disappointed  to  be  excluded 
from  the  conference  between-  Gilbert  and  her  husband. 
Our  hero,  however,  relieved  her  of  her  apprehensions. 

"Though  I  am  in  trouble,"  he  said,  "I  have  nothing  to 
be  ashamed  of,  and  am  perfectly  willing  to  speak  before 
all  of  you." 

Mr.  Briggs  here  glanced  at  his  wife  with  a  relieved 
air.  Gilbert  spoke  as  if  confident  of  his  own  innocence. 
It  produced  no  such  effect  on  Mrs..  Briggs. 

"He's  going  to  brazen  it  out,"  she  said  to  herself. 

"Go  on,  then,"  said  Mr.  Briggs,  kindly.  "What  is  your 
trouble?" 

"I  have  been  charged  with  theft,  and  dismissed  from 
my  situation,"  said  Gilbert,  candidly. 

"Do  you  call  that  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of?"  de- 
manded Mrs.  Briggs,  sharply. 

Gilbert  met  her  hostile  gaze  with  unflinching  calmness. 

"No,"  he  said ;  "it  is  nothing  for  me  to  b*  Ashamed  of* 
for  the  charge  is  false." 


134  A  Female  Foe. 

"What  evidence  have* we  of  that  except  your  own  as- 
sertion?" demanded  Mrs.  Briggs. 

"That  is  enough  for  me,"  said  Mr.  Briggs. 

"It  is  not  enough  for  me,"  said  his  wife. 

"I  will  give  you  an  account  of  the  affair  so  far  as  I 
understand  it,"  said  Gilbert.  "Fortunately,  I  have  a  wit- 
ness who  is  able  to  confirm  my  words." 

Gilbert's  statement  need  not  be  repeated,  as  the  facts 
are  already  known  to  us. 

"So  you  expect  us  to  believe  the  testimony  of  this  boot- 
black," said  Mrs.  Briggs,  scornfully — "a  highly  respectable 
witness,  indeed." 

"I  suppose  a  bootblack  may  speak  the  truth,  madam," 
said  Gilbert. 

"I  dare  say  he  would  say  whatever  he  was  instructed  to 
say  for  twenty-five  cents,  perhaps  less." 

"You  are  determined  to  believe  me  guilty,  Mrs.  Briggs," 
said  Gilbert,  quietly,  betraying  no  anger;  "I  expected  it, 
for  I  know  you  are  prejudiced  against  me." 

"I  certainly  don't  believe  the  very  extraordinary  story 
you  have  told  us,"  retorted  the  lady.  "You  charge  a 
bookkeeper,  of  high  standing,  with  entering  into  a  con- 
spiracy against  you.  It  is  absurd  upon  its  face." 

"How  do  you  know  the  bookkeeper  is  of  high  stand- 
ing?" asked  Mr.  Briggs. 

"Because  Mr.  Sands  would  not  have  any  other." 

"Gilbert  has  the  same  guaranty  of  high  standing,"  said      ; 
her  husband,  smiling.     "He  has  been  employed  by  Mr. 
Sands." 


A  Female  Foe.  135 

"That  is  different.    He  took  him  upon  your  recommen- 


"Would  I  be  likely  to  recommend  any  boy  not  of  high 
standing  ?" 

"Your  levity  seems  to  be  ill-timed,  Mr.  Briggs,"  said 
his  wife,  coldly. 

"I  thought  it  my  duty  to  come  to  you  and  tell  you  at 
once,"  said  Gilbert. 

"Knowing  that  you  could  not  conceal  it  from  us,  for 
we  knew  it  already,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs,  who  could  not 
forbear  another  sneer. 

"You  knew  it  already!"  exclaimed  Gilbert,  with  un- 
mistakable astonishment.  "Has  Mr.  Moore  already  sent 
you  word  of  it?" 

"No;  Randolph  happened  to  call  at  the  office  for  you 
just  after  your  discharge.  He  brought  us  the  news." 

"I  am  much  obliged  to  Randolph  for  his  call,"  said 
Gilbert  ;  "I  am  only  sorry  that  it  occurred  at  such  an  un- 
fortunate time." 

"It  was  unfortunate  for  you,  no  doubt,"  said  Mrs. 
Briggs. 

"When  I  return  there,  I  hope  you  will  call  again,"  said 
our  hero,  turning  to  Randolph. 

Mrs.  Briggs  was  exasperated  by  our  hero's  coolness. 

"Have  you  the  effrontery  to  fancy  you  will  be  taken 
back  after  such  a  crime?"  she  demanded. 

"I  have  committed  no  crime,  Mrs.  Briggs.  The  charge 
is  false,  as  I  shall  prove  to  Mr.  Sands  when  he  returns 
from  Washington.  He  is  a  just  man,  and  understand* 
that  the  bookkeeper  is  prejudiced  against  me." 


136  A  Female  Foe. 

"When  will  Mr.  Sands  return?"  asked  Mr.  Briggs. 

"In  a  few  days.  He  has  gone  to  the  sick  bed  of  his 
brother.  I  shall  wait  till  he  returns  before  taking  any 
steps  to  clear  myself." 

"It  is  probably  your  best  course.  I  hope  all  will  come 
Out  right." 

"I  think  it  will,"  said  Gilbert.  "Now,  let  me  bid  you 
good-evening." 

"Why  not  stay  the  evening?"  said  Mr.  Briggs,  in  a 
friendly  tone. 

"Thank  you  very  much,  but  I  will  wait  till  I  am  cleared 
of  this  charge.  I  came  up  to-night  because  I  wanted  you 
to  know  about  it." 

"I  will  accompany  you  to  the  door,"  said  Mr.  Briggs. 

When  they  were  in  the  hall,  he  said :  "Next  Wednes- 
day Randolph  is  to  have  a  birthday  party.  I  shall  b« 
glad  to  see  you  here." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Gilbert,  gratefully.  "I  thank 
you  all  the  more,  because  it  shows  that  you  believe  in  my 
innocence.  But  all  the  same,  I  would  rather  not  accept. 
I  shall  still  be  resting  under  this  false  charge,  and  Mrs, 
Briggs  evidently  believes  me  guilty." 

"Women  are  apt  to  be  prejudiced,"  said  Mr.  Briggs, 
apologetically. 

"Still,  the  prejudice  would  make  it  unpleasant  for  me 
to  come." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,  Gilbert.  At  any  rate,  you  are 
manly  and  independent,  and  I  respect  you  for  it.  Come 
round  to  my  office  if  anything  turns  up  in  which  you  need 
iny  advice." 


A  Female  Foe.  137 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

When  Mr.  Briggs  returned  to  the  dining  room,  his  wif« 
accosted  him. 

"Well,  you  had  a  secret  conference  with  your  promising 
protege,"  she  said. 

"Not  secret.  I  am  willing  to  tell  you  all  that  passed 
between  us." 

"Well?" 

"I  invited  Gilbert  to  attend  Randolph's  party  next 
Wednesday." 

"Good  heavens!  Mr.  Briggs,"  exclaimed  the  lady,  an- 
grily; "this  is  a  little  too  much.  Of  course  the  boy 
snapped  at  it.  He  has  more  effrontery  than  any  boy  I 
ever  knew." 

"He  declined  the  invitation,"  said  Mr.  Briggs.  "He 
said  that  while  resting  under  this  charge  he  was  un- 
ivilling  to  be  present  on  such  an  occasion." 

"Then  he  has  more  decency  than  I  gave  him  credit 
for,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs,  relieved.  "Knowing  his  guilt, 
he  would  find  it  embarrassing." 

"Permit  me  to  differ  with  you,  Mrs.  Briggs.  One  thing 
more.  I  have  only  given  Gilbert  a  verbal  invitation.  Let 
me  request  you  to  send  him  a  personal  invitation  with 
the  rest." 

"What  necessity  is  there  for  that?  Has  he  not  de- 
clined to  come?" 

"He  must  receive  a"  formal  invitation,  nevertheless," 
said  her  husband,  sternly,  "or  there  shall  be  no  party." 

"Your  father  is  so  infatuated  with  that  boy,"  said  Mrs. 
Briggs,  aft  her  husband  had  left  the 


138  A  Female  Foe. 

J3ut  she  sent  the  invitation.  She  knew  by  her  hus- 
band's tone  that  he  was  fully  in  earnest.  She  was  still 
a  little  afraid  that  Gilbert  would  accept,  and  was  only 
quite  freed  from  apprehension  when  she  received  a  note 
from  him  regretting  that  he  could  not  be  present. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

ALPHONSO   JONES. 

"Would  you  like  a  little  fun  this  evening,  Gilbert* 
asked  his  roommate,  on  the  succeeding  morning. 

"Yes,"  said  Gilbert;  "I  always  enjoy  fun,  and  es- 
pecially now  when  I  have  lost  my  place,  since  it  will  help 
me  to  forget  my  bad  luck.  Is  there  anything  up?" 

"Yes;  we  are  going  to  play  a  practical  joke  on  Al- 
phonso  Jones.  We  are  going  to  gratify  his  taste  for  as- 
sociating with  the  aristocracy." 

"What  is  your  plan?" 

"I  have  discovered,  in  Bleecker  Street,  a  stylish  bar- 
ber, who  has  a  smattering  of  French.  In  fact,  he  has 
served  me  more  than  once.  He  has  entered  into  our 
plot,  and  agreed  to  personate  a  French  count — the  Count 
de  Montmorency." 

"Good!"  said  Gilbert,  laughing.  "When  are  the  two 
to  be  brought  together?" 

"This  very  evening,  in  our  room.  I  shall  dispatch  a 
note  to  Mr.  Jones  during  the  day,  inviting  him  to  meet 
my  illustrious  visitor.  Hayward  and  Kennedy  are  in  the 
secret,  and  will  be  present  also.  Of  course  you  will  be 
with  us,  but  you  must  keep  on  a  straight  face." 

"Never  fear  for  me,"  said  Gilbert.  "I  will  take  earc 
not  to  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag." 

In  conformity  with  the  plan,  Mr.  Alphonso  Jones  re- 
ceived, during  the  day,  the  following  note : 


140  Alphonso  Jones. 

"DEAR  MR.  JONES  :  I  shall  be  glad  if  you  will  !avor  me 
with  your  company  this  evening,  in  my  room.  I  have 
been  fortunate  enough  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  an 
illustrious  French  nobleman,  Count  Ernest  de  Montmo- 
rency,  who,  in  the  most  condescending  manner,  has  ac- 
cepted an  invitation  to  spend  this  evening  with  me.  You 
will  find  him  very  affable  and  agreeable,  notwithstanding 
his  superiority  in  social  rank.  I  feel 'a  little  diffident  about 
receiving  him,  not  being  so  well  up  in  the  usages  of  fash- 
ionable society  as  you  are — I  rely  on  you  to  help  me  out. 
I  have  invited  Hayward  and  Kennedy,  also,  to  be  present. 
Greyson  will,  of  course,  be  with  us.  If  you  have  any 
other  engagement,  break  it  for  my  sake.  Yours  truly, 

"W.  INGALLS." 

The  face  of  Jones  was  overspread  with  smiles  as  he 
read  this  epistle,  and  he  felt  at  least  a  foot  taller.  He 
could  conceive  of  nothing  more  glorious  than  to  be  in- 
troduced to  a  foreign  nobleman.  Once  in  his  life  it  had 
been  his  privilege  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  a  brigadier 
general,  who  had  given  him  two  fingers  to  shake,  and 
said :  "I  am  glad  to  meet  you,  sir."  Most  of  the  fash- 
ionable acquaintances,  of  whom  he  boasted,  had  no  ex- 
istence save  in  his  imagination,  but  this  general  was  a 
reality;  he  was  only  a  general  of  volunteers,  but  that 
made  no  difference  to  Alphonso;  he  had  managed  hun- 
dreds of  times  to  make  capital  of  his  greatness  in  some 
such  way  as  this :  "My  friend,  Gen.  Smith,  remarked  to 
me  one  day ;"  or,  "speaking  of  brave  men  reminds  me  of 
my  intimate  friend,  Gen.  Smith.'*  But  even  Gen.  Smith 
was  not  for  a  moment  to  be  compared  to  the  Count  Ernest 
de  MontmorenjC^  there  was  something  peculi-^y  high- 


Alptonso  Jones.  141 

toned  in  the  name,  Alphonso  thought.  So  thought  Mr. 
Ingalls,  or  he  would  have  invented  some  other. 

Alphonso  was  anxious  to  communicate  to  some  one  else 
the  honor  in  store  for  him;  he  would  like  to  have  gone 
to  his  employer  at  once,  and  said :  "Mr.  Simpson,  I  am 
to  meet  the  Count  de  Montmorency  this  evening."  This, 
however,  even  to  Alphonso,  seemed  rather  an  abrupt  and 
uncalled-for  announcement,  and  he  had  to  consider  how 
best  to  manage  the  matter,  for  he  was  determined  that 
Mr.  Simpson  should  know  it.  It  was  not  entirely  easy, 
but  finally  a  bright  and  satisfactory  idea  dawned  upon  the 
happy  Jones. 

He  went  up  to  the  desk,  behind  which  his  employer,  a 
stout,  practical  man  of  business,  was  sitting,  and  coughed, 
by  the  way  of  arresting  his  attention. 

"Eh!  Mr.  Jones;  did  you  wish  to  speak  to  me?"  in- 
quired Mr.  Simpson. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Alphonso ;  "would  you  be  kind  enough 
to  let  me  leave  the  store  half  an  hour  earlier  than  usual  ?" 

"If  you  have  a  good  reason,  Mr.  Jones ;  are  you  sick  ?" 

"No,  sir;  my  health  is  excellent,  thank  you.  The  fact 
is,  sir,  I  have  an  invitation  to  meet  the  noble  count,  Count 
Ernest  de  Montmorency,  this  evening,  and " 

"The — what?"  exclaimed  his  employer,  arching  his 
brows. 

"A  French  nobleman,  sir — the  Count  Ernest  de  Mont- 
morency," repeated  Alphonso,  trying  not  to  betray  too 
Strongly  his  inward  exultation. 

"What  time  are  you  going  to  meet  him?" 

"This  ^venine:,  sir,  but  I  wish  time  to  dress  properly." 


142  Alphonso  Jones. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  that  I  have  any  objection,"  said 
the  merchant,  deliberately.  "Where  is  this  count  stop- 
ping ?" 

"I  don't  know  exactly,  sir ;  but  probably  at  the  Brevoort 
House  or  the  Clarendon." 

"Very  well,  you  can  go.  Business  is  not  pressing,  and 
you  can  be  spared.  But,  hark  you,  Mr.  Jones,  one  word 
of  advice." 

"Certainly,  sir." 

"If  this  count  wants  to  borrow  money  of  you,  don't 
lend  him." 

"I  am  sure  "he  wouldn't  ask  such  a  thing,"  said  Al- 
phonso,  shocked  at  the  idea.  "Why,  he  possesses  a  beau- 
tiful chateau  and  an  immense  estate  in  France!" 

Here  Alphonso  drew  upon  his  imagination  for  what  he 
considered  to  be  probable  enough. 

"They  all  say  so,"  said  the  practical  Simpson,  "even 
when  they  haven't  twenty-five  cents  to  bless  themselves 
with.  My  advice  may  be  needed,  after  all." 

Alphonso  was  rather  disgusted  by  this  caution,  which 
seemed  so  derogatory  to  the  character  and  position  of  a 
nobleman;  but  he,  after  some  reflection,  attributed  it  to 
Mr.  Simpson's  disappointment  in  not  himself  enjoying  the 
privilege  of  being  invited  to  meet  the  count. 

"Mr.  Kidder,"  he  said  to  a  fellow  clerk,  "what  do  you 
think  of  my  necktie  ?" 

"It  looks  well  enough — why?" 

"I  was  wondering  whether  it  would  do  to  wear  this 
evening  ?" 

"What's  up  this  evening?" 


Alphonso  Jones.  143 

"I  am  invited  to  meet  the  Count  Ernest  de  Mont- 
morency,  as  you  will  see  by  this  note." 

"Strange  Ingalls  didn't  invite  me,"  said  Kidder.  "When 
did  he  pick  up  the  count?" 

"Really,  Mr.  Kidder,  that  is  a  singular  way  of  speak- 
ing— picking  up  the  count,"  protested  Alphonso. 

"I  have  no  great  respect  for  French  counts,"  said  Kid- 
der. "They  don't  generally  amount  to  much." 

"He's  jealous,  too,"  said  Alp'honso  to  himself,  compla- 
cently. "It  is  clear  he  envies  me  my  invitation." 

"What  do  you  think  I  ought  to  wear,  Mr.  Kidder?" 
he  asked. 

"Dress  suit  and  white  tie,  of  course." 

"So  I  think.  I'm  really  sorry  I  can't  take  you  with 
me,  Kidder." 

"Oh !  I  couldn't  go  to-night.  I've  got  a  ticket  to  the 
theater." 

"I'd  rather  meet  the  count  than  go  to  forty  theaters," 
thought  Alphonso.  "Wouldn't  it  be  a  splendid  thing  if 
he  should  take  a  fancy  to  me,  and  invite  me  to  visit  him  at 
his  chateau  in  la  belle  France?" 

Alphonso  made  so  many  mistakes  during  the  remainder 
of  the  day  that  he  might  have  been  spared  considerably 
•ooner  without  detriment  to  the  business. 


CHAPTER  XXn. 

COUNT    ERNEST    DE    MONTMORENCY. 

At  eight  o'clock  Alphonso  knocked  at  the  door  of  Mr. 
Ingalls'  room.  He  was  got  up  with  the  utmost  magnifi- 
cence which  he  could  command.  With  his  dress  coat, 
white  tie  and  imitation  diamond  pin,  he  made  an  imposing 
appearance. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Jones,"  said  Mr.  Ingalls. 
"Count  Ernest  de  Montmorency,  permit  me  to  introduce 
my  friend,  Mr.  Alphonso  Jones." 

The  count,  a  little  man,  with  a  waxed  mustache  of  ex- 
traordinary size,  a  long  nose,  and  pale,  watery  eyes, 
rose,  and  bowed  profoundly. 

"I  am  most  happy,  Monsieur  Jones,  to  have  ze  honor 
of  making  your  acquaintance,"  he  said. 

"My  lord  count,  the  honor  is  on  my  side,"  returned 
Alphonso,  with  an  elaborate  bow,  which  he  had  learned 
in  dancing  school. 

"Mr.  Jones,"  said  Ingalls,  "will  you  take  the  chair  next 
to  the  count?  Our  distinguished  friend  is  desirous  of 
making  some  inquiries  about  fashionable  society  in 
America." 

"I  shall  be  most  happy,"  replied  Alphonso,  immensely 
flattered,  "to  give  the  noble  count  any  information  in  my 
power." 

"I  understand  from  Monsieur  Ingalls  you  do  go  muctt 
in  society.."  said  the  count. 


Count  Ernest  de  Montmorency.         145 

*A  little,  your  lordship,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  modestly.  "I 
tm  intimate  in  some  of  our  leading  families." 

"You  have  some  fine  watering  places,  n'est  ce  pas?" 

"Yes,  my  lord  count — Newport,  Saratoga  and  Long 
Branch  are  all  fashionable." 

"You  have  visit  zem  all  ?" 

"Oh !  yes,"  answered  Alphonso,  who  had  once  stopped 
Over  night  at  Saratoga,  and  made  a  day's  excursion  to 
Long  Branch.  "I  meet  so  many  of  my  fashionable 
friends  there,  that  it  is  very  pleasant  for  me." 

"Sans  doute,  and  which  do  you  prefare?" 

"Saratoga,  my  lord  count.  It  is  the  most  high-toned, 
in  my  opinion.  My  frienas,  the  Vernons,  of  Madison 
Avenue,  always  go  there." 

"I  once  did  know  a  Marquis  de  Varnon  in  my  own 
country. 

"A  relation  of  my  friends,"  said  Alph»nso,  confidently, 
"How  long  has  your  lordship  been  in  America  ?" 

"Tree  week,  zat  is  all." 

"Have  you  been  in  New  York  all  the  time  ?" 

"No,  Monsieur  Jones.  I  did  visit  Boston  and  Philadel- 
phia, but  New  York  is  one  fine  city,  ze  best  of  all;  it  re- 
minds me  of  Paris." 

"Paris  is  a  very  beautiful  city,  I  have  always  heard, 
my  lord  count." 

"Oh!  tres  magnifique.  Zere  is  no  city  like  it.  Have 
you  visited  Paris,  Monsieur  Alphonse  ?" 

He  is  getting  intimate,  thought  Mr.  Jones,  elated,  or 
fce  would  not  call  me  by  my  first  name. 

"No,  your  lordship,  I  have  not  had  that  great  pleasure." 


146        Count  Ernest  de  Montmorency. 

"When  you  come,"  said  the  count,  affably,  "you  must 
come  to  my  chateau  in  Normandy,  and  stay  one  month." 

This  was  beyond  Alphonso's  most  sanguine  hopes.  To 
be  invited  to  visit  a  foreign  nobleman  at  his  chateau  was 
An  unlooked-for  honor. 

"You  overwhelm  me  with  your  kindness,  my  lord 
*unt,"  said  Alphonso,  in  a  nutter  of  delight.  "I  hope 
some  day  to  accept  your  honorable  invitation." 

"I  think  you  will  have  zer  good  time.  My  sister,  the 
Countess  Marie  de  Montmorency,  will  be  charmed  to  see 
you.  She  adores  Americans." 

Alphonso  was  in  the  seventh  heaven  of  delight.  In- 
stantly he  pictured  the  highborn  Countess  Marie  falling 
in  love  with  him,  marrying  him,  and  thus  giving  him  at 
place  in  the  aristocratic  circles  of  France.  Perhaps,  in 
that  case,  family  influence  would  procure  him  a  title,  also* 
It  was  the  happiest  moment  of  his  life. 

"Nothing  would  delight  me  more  than  to  make  the  ac» 
quaintance  of  your  august  family,  my  lord  count,"  he 
said,  his  voice  partly  tremulous  with  joy.  "When  do  you 
propose  to  return  to  la  belle  France?" 

"What,  you  do  speak  my  language,  Monsieur  AK 
phonse?" 

"Only  a  little,  your  lordship,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  modestljy 

"Oui,  monsieur,  un  peu" 

'"Comment  votts  portes  vous,  Monsieur  Alphonsef* 

"Tres  beaucoup  bien"  answered  Alphonso,  proudly. 

"What  an  accent  1"  exclaimed  the  count,  raising  botV 
hands.  "You  do  speak  like  one  native." 


Count  Ernest  de  Montmorency.        147 

"I  think  I  should  soon  learn  it  if  I  were  in  la  belle 
prance,"  said  Alphonso,  much  pleased. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Ingalls,  "I  don't  like  to  interrupt 
you,  but  permit  me  to  offer  you  a  glass  of  wine." 

Glasses  were  handed  to  the  company. 

"Mr.  Jones,  will  you  propose  the  count's  health?"  asked 
the  host.  Alphonso  rose,  and  placed  one  hand  on  his 
heart. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  commenced,  "I  feel — ahem!  deeply 
honored,  and — and  happy  on  this  auspicious  occasion.  We 
are  assembled,  sir,  to  do  honor  to  an  illustrious  peer  of 
the  realm.  The  noble  Count  Ernest  v'e  Montmorency 
honors  us  with  his  high-toned  presence.  We  all  hope 
that  he  may  enjoy  his  visit,  and  return  in  safety  to  his 
aristocratic  relations,  his  honorable  mother,  and  his  sis- 
ter, the  noble  Countess  Marie  de  Montmorency.  I  pro- 
pose  the  health  of  the  noble  count" 

The  toast  was  drunk  with  enthusiasm. 

"Mr.  Jones,  you  are  quite  an  orator,"  said  Mr.  Ingalls. 

"You  have  ze  great  talent  for  speaking,  Monsieur 
Alphonse.  You  should  go  to  Congress." 

"My  lord  count,  you  flatter  me,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  de- 
ciding that  this  was,  by  all  odds,  the  proudest  moment 
of  his  life. 

"Not  at  all,  Mr.  Jones,"  said  Mr.  Ingalls.  "I  nev* 
heard  a  neater  speech,  did  you,  Hayward  ?" 

"Never,"  said  Hayward. 

So  poor  Alphonso  was  fooled  to  the  top  of  his  bent,  and 


248        Count  Ernest  de  Montmorency. 

when  the  company  separated,  and  he  retired  to  his  humble 
apartment,  he  was  visited  by  the  most  ravishing  dreams, 
in  which  he  stood  at  the  altar  with  the  highborn  Countess 
Marie  de  Montmorency,  clad  in  sumptuous  attire,  wear* 
Ing  on  his  breast  the  cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor, 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE    LITTLE    FLOWER    GIRL. 

Gilbert  found  it  very  irksome  to  be  without  employ 
ment;  besides,  he  was  anxious  to  be  vindicated,  as  soon 
as  possible,  from  the  malicious  charge  which  had  been 
made  against  him.  He  felt  himself  fortunate,  however, 
in  one  respect;  he  was  subjected  to  no  privations,  having 
his  board  and  lodging  paid  by  his  guardian.  Had  Mr. 
Briggs  suspected  him,  he  was  proud  enough  to  have  left 
his  boarding  place,  and  relied  upon  his  own  exertions. 

From  the  force  of  habit,  and  partly  to  fill  up  his  time, 
Gilbert  continued  to  go  downtown  daily.  One  day  he 
met  Mr.  Vivian  on  Broadway,  below  the  Astor  House. 

"Good-morning,  Gilbert,"  said  the  merchant,  pleasantly. 
"Are  you  out  on  business?'* 

"No,  sir,"  answered  Gilbert.  "I  am  out  of  business 
just  at  present." 

"I  thought  you  were  in  the  office  of  a  stockbroker." 

"So  I  was;  but  I  have  lost  my  place." 

"Through  no  fault  of  your  own,  I  am  sure." 

"No,  sir.  I  should  not  have  lost  my  place  if  Mr. 
Sands  had  been  in  the  city.  During  his  absence  the 
bookkeeper,  who  has  a  dislike  to  me  because  I  superseded 
his  cousin,  discharged  me." 

"Come  up  this  evening  to  my  house,  Gilbert.  Then 
I  shall  be  at  leisure,  and  you  can  tell  me  all  the  detaUf 
of  the  affair." 


150  The  Little  Flower  GirL 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

"I  am  sure  he  won't  credit  the  charge  against  me," 
thought  Gilbert,  and  this  thought  encouraged  him  not  a 
little. 

Gilbert  continued  his  walk.  As  he  was  passing  Trinity 
Church  yard,  he  was  accosted  by  a  little  girl,  of,  perhaps, 
eight  years  of  age.  "Won't  you  buy  some  flowers,  sir  ?— 
only  five  cents." 

Gilbert  shook  his  head  mechanically.  Then  he  glanced 
at  the  little  girl,  and  his  sympathy  was  aroused.  She  was 
poorly  dressed,  with  a  fragile  figure,  and  thin,  pale  face, 
which  yet  only  lacked  the  roundness  and  rosy  hue  of 
health  to  be  uncommonly  pretty.  She  did  not  repeat 
her  request,  but  she  looked  sad  and  depressed.  Gilbert 
paused  and  spoke  to  her. 

"Have  you  sold  many  flowers  to-day,  little  girl?"  he 
Asked. 

"No,  sir;  only  three  bunches,"  she  replied. 

"Where  do  you  get  them?" 

"I  sell  them  for  a  woman." 

"How  much  does  she  give  you  for  selling  them  ?" 

"Two  cents  a  bunch." 

"Then  you  have  only  made  six  cents  to-day.  How  long 
have  you  been  standing  here  ?" 

"Ever  since  eight  o'clock,"  said  the  little  girl,  wearily. 

"Don't  you  get  tired  being  on  your  feet  so  long  ?' 

"I  wouldn't  care  for  that  if  the  people  would  only  buy 
my  flowers." 

"You  are  too  young  to  be  sent  out  in  this  way.  Haven't 
you  got  a  father  to  take  care  of  you?" 


The  Little  Flower  Girl.  151 

"Papa  used  to  take  care  of  me  when  he  was  well,  and 
did  not  let  me  come  out;  but  now  he  is  sick,  and  we 
have  no  money,  and  I  have  to  leave  him,"  said  the  little 
girl,  sadly. 

"Poor  child !"  said  Gilbert,  compassionately.  "You  are 
unfortunate.  Where  does  your  father  live?" 

"On  Pearl  Street,  in  a  tenement  house,"  said  the  little 
flower  girl;  "but  I  am  afraid  we  will  be  turned  out  be- 
cause we  cannot  pay  the  rent" 

"What  is  your  name?" 

"Emma  Talbot." 

"Then,  Emma,  if  you  like,  I  will  go  around  and  see 
your  father  with  you.  Perhaps  I  can  help  him,  or  get 
some  of  my  friends  to  help  him.  Can  you  come  now?" 

"When  I  have  sold  this  bunch  of  flowers,  sir." 

"As  it  is  the  last  you  have  got,  I  will  take  it;  so  we 
needn't  wait." 

"Oh!  thank  you,  sir,"  said  the  child,  brightening  up. 
"If  you  won't  mind,  I  will  stop  and  buy  a  roll  at  the 
baker's  for  papa." 

"Certainly,  Emma.  I  have  plenty  of  time.  Wait; 
take  my  hand  while  we  cross  the  street;  you  must  be 
careful,  or  you  may  be  run  over." 

"I  wait  for  the  policeman  generally,"  said  the  little  girL 
"I  should  be  afraid  to  cross  alone." 

"You  are  quite  right  to  be  careful." 

The  little  girl  took  his  hand  confidingly,  and  together 
they  crossed  the  City  Hall  Park.  It  was  a  new  sensation 
to  Gilbert  to  have  the  charge  of  a  little  girl.  He  had  al- 
ways been  thrown  among  boys,  and^  never  having  had  a 


X52  The  Little  Flower  GirL 

jister,  was  very  ignorant  of  girls,  and  the  tastes  of  girls. 
For  the  first  time,  as  he  held  Emma's  hand,  it  occurred 
to  him  that  he  would  like  to  have  a  little  sister,  whom  he 
could  pet  and  protect. 

As  he  was  crossing  the  park,  he  met  his  successor,  John, 
Sauntering  along  at  a  snail's  pace.  John  had  been  sent 
out  on  an  errand,  but  had  fallen  into  his  old  way  of 
joitering  and  wasting  the  time  which  belonged  to  his  em- 
ployer. When  he  caught  sight  of  Gilbert  he  started  in 
Surprise  at  his  young  companion. 

"Hello,  Greyson!"  he  said,  by  way  of  opening  a  con- 
rersation. 

"Good-morning,"  said  Gilbert,  coldly. 

"Is  that  your  sister?"  asked  John,  looking  hard  at 
Emma. 

"No,"  answered  Gilbert,  shortly. 

"Ho!  ho!"  laughed  John.     "I  understand." 
I  am  glad  you  do." 

You've  got  a  place  as  a  girl's  nurse.     That's  good." 
You  are  very  witty,"  said  Gilbert. 

"How  much  wages  do  you  get?"  continued  John. 

"I  think  I  had  better  not  tell  you,  or  you  might  get  up 
ft  conspiracy  to  deprive  me  of  my  position." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  asked  John,  uncom- 
fortably. 

"You  know  well  enough  what  I  mean.  You  know  that 
you  got  your  present  place  by  dishonorable  means.  But 
\  don't  think  you'll  keep  it  long." 

"You'd  better  take  care  what  you  say,"  blustered  John. 
"My  cousin  may  have  you  arrested  yet" 


The  Little  Flower  Girl.  153 

"He  is  quite  at  liberty  to  do  so,"  answered  oilbert, 
tmterrified.  "I  don't  think  he  will  find  it  prudent, 
though." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  it  might  come  out  who  really  put  the  monej; 
in  my  coat  pocket." 

"You  did  it  yourself." 

"You  are  mistaken.  I  have  found  out  who  did  put 
it  in." 

"Who?" 

"I  don't  think  you  need  any  information  on  that  point.* 

"Look  here,"  said  John,  angrily,  "you'd  better  not  tell 
any  lies  to  Mr.  Sands  when  he  conies  back." 

"I  have  no  occasion  to  do  so." 

"You'd  better  leave  the  city,  or  Mr.  Sands  may  have 
you  arrested." 

"I  will  risk  that." 

"I  guess  you  can  get  a  place  in  Philadelphia,"  said 
John.  "I'll  get  my  cousin  to  give  you  a  recommendation, 
if  you'll  promise  to  go  there." 

"How  can  he  recommend  me  after  discharging  me  for 
theft?" 

"He'll  think  this  will  be  a  lesson  to  you.  Shall  I  ask 
him  ?" 

"No,  thank  you.  I  don't  intend  to  leave  the  city  at 
present." 

"I'm  afraid  that  chap  will  make  trouble  for  me  yet," 
muttered  John  to  himself,  as  Gilbert  walked  away  with 
the  little  girl ;  "but  he  can't  prove  anything.  I  guess  roe 
and  cousjn  Simon  will  be  more  than  a  match  for  him  " 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
EMMA'S  FATHER. 

Gilbert  kept  on  his  way  with  the  little  girl.  After  a 
short  walk,  she  paused  in  front  of  a  miserable  tenement 
house  on  Pearl  Street. 

"This  is  where  we  live,"  she  said;  "will  you  go  up- 
etairs,  sir?" 

"If  you  think  I  shall  not  be  intruding  on  your  father," 
said  Gilbert,  with  instinctive  delicacy. 

"He  will  be  glad  to  see  a  kind  face,"  said  Emma, 
simply. 

"Then,  if  you  will  lead  the  way,  I  will  follow,"  said 
our  hero. 

They  clambered  up  three  flights  of  stairs,  and  then 
Emma  opened  a  door  and  ushered  her  companion  into  a 
small  barely  furnished  room.  On  a  pallet  on  the  floor  was 
stretched  a  man  of  fifty,  pale  and  emaciated,  with  eyef 
preternaturally  bright;  his  face  was  turned  toward  tht 
wall,  and  he  did  not  see  Gilbert. 

"Is  that  you,  Emma?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  papa;  how  do  you  feel  now?"  asked  the  little 
girl. 

"Much  the  same,  my  child;  did  you  sell  your  flowers?" 

"Yes,  papa,  and  I  have  brought  you  a  fresh  roll.  I 
have  brought  some  one  with  me,  too." 

Mr.  Talbot  turned  his  head,  and  looked  at  Gilbert,  not 
without  surprise. 


Emma's  Father.  155 

"I  hope  you  won't  look  upon  me  as  an  intruder,  sir," 
Said  Gilbert;  "your  little  girl  told  me  you  would  not,  or 
I  would  not  have  ventured  to  call." 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  said  the  sick  man,  "though  this 
is  but  a  poor  place  to  receive  company  in." 

"I  understand  your  situation,  sir,"  said  Gilbert;  "you 
have  been  sick  and  unfortunate." 

"You  are  right ;  I  was  unfortunate  first,  and  sick  after- 
ward. Emma,  will  you  give  the  young  gentleman  a 
chair  ?" 

"Oh!  don't  trouble  yourself,"  said  Gilbert,  taking  a 
chair  for  himself. 

Mr.  Talbot  proceeded:  "Five  years  since,  I  removed 
to  Chicago,  with  my  little  girl,  in  the  hope  that  in  that 
growing  and  prosperous  Western  city  I  might,  at  least, 
earn  a  comfortable  living.  I  was  not  wholly  without 
means — I  had  about  a  thousand  dollars — but  misfortune 
pursued  me.  I  was  once  burned  out,  lost  my  situation 
by  the  failure  of  the  firm  that  employed  me,  and  the  end 
of  it  all  was,  that  a  year  ago  I  found  myself  bankrupt. 
Then  I  decided  to  come  to  New  York,  hoping  to  succeed 
better  here.  I  managed,  while  I  was  well,  to  earn  a  pre- 
carious living  by  copying  for  lawyers — I  am  a  bookkeeper 
by  vocation — but,  a  month  since,  I  was  stricken  down  by  a 
fever,  from  which  I  am  only  just  recovering.  How  we 
have  got  along  I  can  hardly  tell  you.  When  I  became 
sick  I  had  but  a  dollar  in  my  pocketbook,  yet  we  have 
continued  to  live.  My  little  Emma,"  he  continued,  look- 
ing proudly  at  the  little  girl,  "has  been  a  great  help  to 
me.  She  has  managed  to  earn  a  little,  and  has  attended 


156  Emma's  Father. 

upon  me  by  night  and  by  ..day.  I  don't  know  what  I 
could  have  done  without  her." 

"I  ought  to  work  for  you  now,  papa,"  said  the  child, 
simply ;  "all  my  life  you  have  been  working  for  me." 

"She  is  a  perfect  little  woman,  though  only  ten  years 
old,"  said  the  father.  "Poor  child !  her  life  has  been  far 
from  bright.  I  hope  the  future  has  some  happier  days 
in  store  for  both  of  us." 

"Only  get  well,  sir,"  said  Gilbert,  cheerfully,  "and  the 
happier  days  will  begin." 

"I  hope  so;  but  even  in  health  I  found  it  hard  to  gel 
along." 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

Emma  went  to  the  door,  and  opened  it. 

A  short,  stout,  coarse-featured  woman  entered,  and 
looked  about  her  with  the  air  of  one  who  had  come  to 
engage  in  battle. 

"Take  a  seat,  Mrs.  Flanders,"  said  the  sick  man. 

"Much  obliged  to  you,  sir,"  said  the  woman,  not  to  be 
placated  by  this  politeness ;  "but  I  can't  stop.  I  come  00 
business.  I  suppose  you  know  what  it  is." 

"I  suppose  it  is  the  rent,"  said  Mr.  Talbot,  uneasily. 

"Yes,  it  is  the  rent,"  said  Mrs.  Flanders.  "I  hope  yoo 
are  ready  to  pay  it." 

"How  can  you  expect  it,  Mrs.  Flanders?  You  knout 
how  long  I  have  been  sick  and  unable  to  earn  anything." 

"That  is  not  my  fault,  Mr.  Talbot,"  said  the  woman, 
sharply.  "I'm  a  widow  woman,  and  have  to  look  out 
{or  myself.  When  I  let  you  this  room,  I  told  you  yow 


Emma's  Father.  157 

must  pay  me  prompt,  for  I  had  to  pay  prompt.  Have 
you  forgot  that?" 

"No,  I  have  not  forgotten  it,  and  I  am  very  sorry  that 
circumstances  have  been  so  against  me.  Wait  patiently, 
and  I  will  pay  you  yet." 

"Wait  patiently !"  repeated  the  woman,  angrily. 
"Haven't  I  been  waiting  patiently  for  a  month  ?  To-mor- 
row I  have  to  pay  my  rent,  and  I  must  be  paid  what  you 
owe  me." 

"We  have  but  a  few  cents  in  the  house,"  said  Mr.  Tal- 
bot.  "How  much  have  you  got,  Emma?" 

"Four  cents,  papa." 

"Give  them  to  Mrs.  Flanders;  it  is  all  we  have." 

"Four  cents !"  exclaimed  the  landlady,  shrilly ;  "do  you 
tnean  to  insult  me?" 

"I  don't  feel  much  like  insulting  anybody,"  said  Mr. 
Talbot,  wearily. 

"Once  more,  do  you  intend  to  pay  me  my  rent  or  not  ?" 
demanded  the  virago. 

"I  can't  at  present.     In  time— — " 

"Stuff  and  nonsense! — then  out  you  budge  to-day.  1 
Can't  afford  to  keep  you  here  for  nothing." 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Flanders,"  pleaded  Emma,  in  terror.  "It 
will  kill  my  father  to  go  out,  sick  as  he  is.  Let  us  stay 
here  a  little  longer." 

"It  won't  do,"  said  the  woman;  "I'm  not  so  soft  as 
that  comes  to.  If  you  won't  pay  the  rent,  you  must 
budge." 

Gilber-  "  id  listened  to  this  dialogue  with  mingled  pain 


158  Emma's  Father. 

and  indignation.  It  was  his  first  practical  acquaintance 
with  poverty  and  the  world's  inhumanity.  He  could  re- 
main silent  no  longer. 

"How  much  is  your  bill,  madam  ?"  he  asked. 

"Rent  for  four  weeks,  at  a  dollar  a  week — four  dollars." 

"I  will  pay  it,"  said  Gilbert,  glad  that  the  amount  was 
not  beyond  his  resources. 

The  little  girl  impulsively  seized  his  hand  and  car- 
ried it  to  her  lips. 

"Oh,  how  kind  you  are!"  she  said. 

"Are  you  sure  it  will  not  inconvenience  you?"  asked 
Mr.  Talbot. 

"Oh!  no,  sir/' 

"Then  I  will  accept  the  loan  with  thanks.  You  are  a 
friend  in  need." 

The  landlady  took  the  money  with  avidity,  for  she  had 
considered  the  debt  a  bad  one. 

"Thank  you,  young  man,"  she  said;  adding,  in  an 
apologetic  tone :  "You  may  think  me  hard,  but  I  have  to 
be.  I  have  to  live  myself." 

Gilbert  listened  coldly,  for  he  was  disgusted  with  the 
woman's  coarse  and  brutal  manners. 

"And  I  hope  you'll  get  well  soon,  sir,"  she  said,  turn- 
ing to  Mr.  Talbot ;  but  he  did  not  answer  her. 

"It  is  the  way  of  the  world,"  he  remarked,  after  Mrs. 
Flanders  had  gone  out.  "Poverty  has  few  friends." 

"When  you  are  well,  sir,  I  will  mention  you  to  a 
friend,  who  may  give  you  some  work,"  said  Gilbert. 
"Meanwhile,  I  will  call  again  in  a  day  or  two.** 


Emma's  Father.  159 

"You  will  always  be  welcome,"  said  Mr.  Talbot,  grate- 
fully. "You  have  done  me  a  great  service." 

When  Gilbert  went  out,  he  realized  that  his  generosity 
might  cause  him  inconvenience,  for  he  had  but  a  dollaf 
remaining  in  his  pocketbook,  and  was  earning  nothing. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

GILBERT   IN    A  TIGHT    PLACE. 

Gilbert  called  upon  the  Vivians  the  same  evening.  He 
was  received  with  as  much  cordiality  as  on  his  first  visit. 

"Now,"  said  Mr.  Vivian,  laying  down  the  evening  pa- 
per, which  he  had  been  reading  at  Gilbert's  entrance,  "tell 
me  how  you  came  to  lose  your  place." 

Gilbert  told  his  story  in  the  fewest  possible  words. 

"It's  a  great  shame,"  said  Fred,  indignantly;  "I'd  like 
to  put  a  head  on  that  bookkeeper." 

"I  sympathize  with  you,  Fred,"  said  Laura ;  "but  I  think 
you  might  have  expressed  yourself  differently." 

"Your  sister  is  right,  Fred,"  said  Mr.  Vivian;  "you 
must  not  be  too  ready  to  employ  street  phrases." 

"That's  what  I  mean,  anyway,"  said  Fred. 

"Do  you  think  your  employer  will  do  you  justice  when 
he  returns?"  asked  Mr.  Vivian. 

"Yes,  sir.  Mr.  Sands  is  an  excellent  man,  and  he 
knows  very  well  that  Mr.  Moore  is  prejudiced  against 
me." 

"Then  you  expect  to  be  taken  back?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"If  anything  should  occur  to  prevent,  come  at  once 
and  let  me  know." 

"Thank  you,  sir  " 

Before  the  evening  was  over  Gilbert  managed  to  in- 
troduce thr  .cubi":4:  of  the  little  flower  girl  whom  he  had 


Gilbert  in  a  Tight  Place.  l6l 

Befriended.  He  gave  an  account  of  the  father's  sick- 
ness, and  the  little  girl's  devotion.  Fred  and  Laura  were 
much  interested,  and  asked  many  questions,  which  Gilbert 
answered  as  well  as  he  could. 

"You  think  these  people  really  worthy  of  assistance, 
Gilbert?"  asked  Mr.  Vivian. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  have  no  doubt  of  it." 

"You  know  there  are  many  impostors,  who  live  by; 
working  on  the  sympathies  of  the  benevolent?" 

"Yes,  sir;  but  in  this  case  I  have  no  hesitation  at  all. 
I  am  sure  Mr.  Talbot  and  the  little  girl  deserve  help." 

"In  that  case,"  said  the  merchant,  "I  am  willing  to  do 
something  for  them." 

He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  ten-dollar  bill  and  handed 
it  to  Gilbert. 

"It  may  be  best,"  he  suggested,  "not  to  give  them  this 
money  all  at  once,  but  a  dollar  or  two  at  a  time,  in  order 
to  insure  its  careful  use." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Gilbert,  joyfully;  "this  money 
will  be  like  a  fortune  to  them.  I  will  see  that  your  wishes 
are  carried  out." 

"Papa,"  said  Fred,  "may  I  give  Gilbert  my  five-dollar 
gold  piece  for  the  little  girl  and  her  father?*' 

"Not  at  present,  Fred ;  though  I  am  glad  you  feel  like 
offering  it.  When  this  money  is  expended,  Gilbert  will 
let  us  know,  and  then  we  will  see  what  else  is  to  be 
done." 

"You  are  a  dear,  good  boy,  to  offer  the  money,"  said 
Laura,  giving  her  brother  an  unexpected  kiss ;  "you  have 


162  Gilbert  in  a  Tight  Place. 

a  good  heart,  though  you  don't  always  keep  your  facfc 
and  hands  clean." 

"A  fellow  can't  always  be  washing  his  face  and 
hands,"  said  Fred.  "You  needn't  kiss  me  if  you  are  afraid 
of  the  dirt." 

Laura  laughed.     "I  will  risk  it  this  time,"  she  said. 

"Won't  you  play  me  a  game  of  checkers,  Gilbert?" 
asked  Fred. 

"What  am  I  to  do  while  you  two  are  playing?"  asked 
Laura. 

"Oh !  you  can  be  umpire,"  said  Fred. 

"I  should  be  sure  to  decide  against  you,"  said  Laura. 

"That's  because  you  like  Gilbert,"  said  Fred,  who  was 
just  at  the  age  when  a  boy  is  apt  to  make  disconcerting 
speeches. 

Laura  blushed  a  little,  and  so  did  Gilbert 

"I  think  we  both  like  him,"  said  Laura. 

"I  do,"  said  Fred. 

"Thank  you  both,"  said  Gilbert.  "I  suppose  there  isn't 
such  a  thing  as  three  playing  a  game  of  checkers.  That 
would  bring  us  all  in." 

"No,"  said  Laura;  "but  we  can  play  the  Mansion  ol 
Happiness,  if  Fred  is  willing." 

"I  don't  mind,"  said  Fred.     "That's  good  fun,  too." 

So  the  game  referred  to  was  brought  out,  and  an  hour 
was  consumed  in  this  way.  Fred,  to  his  great  delight,  was 
the  victor  each  time,  and  was  disposed  to  exult  over  his 
vanquished  opponents. 

"Never  mind,  Fred;  it  will  b«  our  turn  next  time,* 
said  Laura. 


Gilbert  In  a  Tight  Place.  163 

At  half-past  nine  Gilbert  set  out  for  home.  He  felt 
that  he  had  passed  a  pleasant  evening,  and  was  cheered 
by  the  thought  that  his  discharge  had  not  alienated  these 
true  friends  from  him. 

Two  days  later  he  went  to  the  office  of  Mr.  Briggs.  He 
was  accustomed  to  make  a  weekly  call,  when  Mr.  Briggs 
would  give  him  money  to  pay  his  week's  board. 

"Is  Mr.  Briggs  in  ?"  he  asked,  after  looking  about  him 
in  vain  for  that  gentleman. 

"Mr.  Briggs  will  not  be  in  for  a  long  time,"  said  the 
clerk  addressed.  "He  has  gone  to  Europe." 

"Gone  to  Europe!"  exclaimed  Gilbert,  in  genuine  as- 
tonishment. 

"Business  of  importance  called  him  very  suddenly," 
said  the  clerk. 

"How  long  is  he  to  be  gone?" 

"It  is  uncertain.  From  two  to  three  months,  I  should 
say." 

"Did  he  leave  any  letter  or  message  for  me — Gilbert 
Grey  son  ?" 

The  clerk  shook  his  head. 

"Nothing  at  all,"  he  answered. 

Gilbert  left  the  office  in  great  perplexity.  How  was 
he  to  pay  the  week's  board  now  due,  he  asked  himself, 
with  less  than  a  dollar  in  hand,  and  no  income  ? 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE     COUNT'S     SECRET. 

On  the  morning  after  Alphonso  Jones  had  enjoyed  his 
memorable  interview  with  the  Count  Ernest  de  Montmo- 
rency,  he  bore  himself  in  a  loftier  and  more  consciously 
superior  manner  than  usual.  He  felt  that  he  was  en- 
titled to  a  larger  measure  of  consideration,  on  account 
of  his  intimacy  with  one  of  the  nobility. 

"The  count  must  have  seen  something  in  me,  or  he 
Nvould  not  have  invited  me  to  visit  him  at  his  chateau,"  re- 
flected Alphonso. 

It  was  natural  that  Mr.  Jones  should  wish  his  friends 
to  be  aware  of  his  social  distinction. 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Kidder,"  he  said,  in  a  patronizing 
manner,  to  his  fellow  clerk.  "How  did  you  enjoy  the 
theater  last  evening?" 

"Very  well.  The  play  was  a  good  one,  and  well  per- 
formed." 

"I  also  passed  the  evening  in  a  very  agreeable  man- 
ner," remarked  Alphonso,  complacently. 

"Where  were  you  ?" 

"In  Mr.  Ingalls'  room." 

"Oh!  yes,  I  forgot.  What  company  did  he  have  in? 
Didn't  you  say  something  of  a  French  count  being  ex- 
pected?" 

"The    "  iint  Ernest  de  Montmorencv  "*as  present," 


The  Count's  Secret.  '65 


said  Alphonso,  dwelling  with  unction  on  the  hig 
ing  syllables. 

"How  did  you  like  him?"  asked  Kidder,  who  had  re- 
ceived a  brief  note  from  Mr.  Ingalls,  letting  him  into 
the  secret. 

"I  never  met  a  more  high-toned  gentleman,"  said  Mr. 
Jones,  enthusiastically.  "His  manners  were  most  courtly, 
and  I  may  add  that  he  was  very  affable  to  me." 

"Ingalls  ought  to  have  invited  me,"  said  Mr.  Kidder, 
affecting  to  feel  slighted. 

"He  will  doubtless  remember  you  another  time,"  said 
Alphonso;  "probably  the  count  does  not  like  a  large 
company." 

"I  suppose  he  is  just  like  other  men,"  said  Kidder,  by 
way  of  drawing  out  his  fellow  clerk.  "If  you  hadn't 
known  him  to  be  a  count,  you  wouldn't  have  seen  any- 
thing particular  in  him." 

"I  beg  to  differ  with  you,"  said  Alphonso,  with  an  air 
of  superior  information.  "Some  persons  might  have 
thought  so;  but  I  claim  to  be  a  judge  of  men,  and  I  at 
once  saw  that  he  was  a  high-toned  aristocrat?" 

"What  did  you  judge  from,  now?"  asked  Kidder, 
amused. 

"I  cannot  explain  what  —  it  was  what  the  French  call  je 
ne  sais  qnoi,"  answered  Mr.  Jones,  who  had  been  study- 
ing up  some  French  phrases  that  very  morning. 

"Genesee  squaw  !"  echoed  Kidder,  purposely  misun- 
derstanding him.  "What  on  earth  has  a  French  count  to 
do  with  a  Genesee  squaw?" 

"I  pity  your  ignorance,  Mr.  Kidder,"  sal'1  Alphonso, 


166  The  Count's  Secret. 

mildly.  "The  words  I  used  were  French,  and  mean:  *J 
don't  know  what.'  " 

"You  don't  know  what  they  mean?  Then  why  do  you 
use  them?" 

"You  misunderstand  me  again.  Je  ne  sais  quoi  means 
I — (Jo — not — know — what.  Do  you  see  it  now?" 

"Oh !  that's  it.  I  didn't  know  you  were  such  a  French 
scholar,  Mr.  Jones." 

"I  am  a  poor  French  scholar,"  said  Alphonso,  mod- 
estly; "but  I  shall  try  to  make  myself  familiar  with  the 
language  before  I  go  to  France." 

"Are  you  going  to  France?  How  long  has  that  been 
in  your  mind?" 

"To  tell  the  truth,  Mr.  Kidder,  I  never  thought  seri- 
ously of  it  till  last  evening.  But  since  the  Count  de  Mont- 
morency  has  been  kind  enough  to  invite  me  to  visit  him 
at  his  chateau,  and  become  acquainted  with  his  noble 
family,  I  feel  that  it  is  quite  worth  my  while  to  prepare 
myself  to  converse  with  them." 

"You  don't  say  so !  What  a  lucky  fellow  you  are !  Did 
the  count  really  invite  you?" 

"He  invited  me  in  the  most  affable  and  friendly — I  may 
say,  urgent  manner,"  said  Alphonso,  complacently. 

"Couldn't  you  get  me  an  invitation,  too?"  asked  Kid- 
der, in  pretended  anxiety.  "I've  been  long  wanting  to  go 
abroad,  and  I  think  my  father  would  consent,  if  I  re- 
ceived such  an  invitation  as  that." 

"I  should  like  to  oblige  you,  Mr.  Kidder,  but  really,  I 
couldn't  venture  on  such  a  liberty,"  said  Alphonso,  de- 
cidedly ;  for  he  feared  that  his  fellow  clerk,  who  was  bet- 


The  Count's  Secret.  167 

ter  looking  than  himself,  might  interfere  with  his  matri- 
monial designs  upon  the  count's  highborn  sister. 

"Perhaps  the  count  will  invite  me  himself.  I'll  get  In- 
galls  to  introduce  me." 

"Possibly,"  said  Alphonso,  coldly;  "but  I  wouldn't  ob- 
trude myself  upon  his  lordship." 

"I  don't  see  why  I  shouldn't  be  introduced  as  well  as 
you." 

Alphonso,  who  privately  considered  himself  more  high- 
toned  than  Kidder,  felt  that  there  was  good  reason,  but 
did  not  think  it  policy  to  pursue  the  subject. 

Probably  Mr.  Jones  referred  to  the  Count  Ernest  de 
Montmorency  at  least  thirty  times  that  day,  and  succeeded 
in  arousing  the  curiosity  and  envy  of  such  of  his  ac- 
quaintances as  were  not  in  the  secret.  He  indulged  in 
many  a  gorgeous  daydream,  in  which  he  figured  as  the 
brother-in-law  of  the  count,  with  a  beautiful  chateau  of 
his  own,  and  this  continued  for  several  days.  But  his 
dreams  were  destined  to  a  rude  awakening. 

One  evening,  in  passing  through  Bleecker  Street,  Mr. 
Jones  strolled  into  a  barber  shop,  which  he  had  never  be- 
fore entered.  He  glanced  carelessly  about  him,  when  he 
made  a  sudden  start,  and  gasped  for  breath.  There,  be- 
hind a  barber's  chair,  in  the  act  of  shaving  a  red-headed 
man.  was  the  elegant  Count  Ernest  de  Montmorency! 

The  count  looked  up  and  met  Alphonso's  astonished 
gaze. 

"Good-evening,  M.  Alphonse,"  he  said,  with  a  nod  and 
a  smile. 
-   "Goed-evening,"  ejaculated  Alphonso,  with  difficulty 


168  The  Count's  Secret 

How  could  he  say  "my  lord  count"  to  a  barber? 

"Are  you  the — the — gentleman  I  met  at  the  room  of 
my  friend,  Mr.  Ingalls?"  asked  Mr.  Jones. 

"The  same.  I  will  explain  hereafter,"  said  the  count, 
mysteriously. 

Alphonso  succeeded  the  red-headed  man  in  the  chair 
presided  over  by  the  count. 

"I  am  incognito,"  said  the  latter,  in  a  low  voice.  "I 
have  been  reduced  to  poverty  by  the  rascality  of  a  relative. 
They  don't  know  me  here  in  the  shop." 

"You  don't  say  so!"  ejaculated  Mr.  Jones,  much  im- 
pressed. 

"They  think  I  am  a  common  man.  It  would  not  do 
to  tell  them." 

"Does  Mr.  Ingalls  know?"  said  Alphonso. 

"Yes,  he  knows  how  I  am  reduced ;  but  he  does  not  re- 
spect me  the  less.  May  I  rely  upon  your  secrecy,  also?" 

"Certainly,  my  lord — I  mean,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  be- 
ginning to  think  it  was  all  right  again.  "Do  you  think 
you  will  ever  recover  your  estates?" 

"Don't  speak  so  loud !  Yes,  I  am  almost  sure  of  it.  In 
that  case,  I  shall  expect  you  to  visit  me  at  my  chateau." 

"Thank  you.     I  shall  be  most  happy." 

"How  strange  it  seems  to  be  shaved  by  a  count!" 
thought  Alphonso.  "But  I  really  wish  he  wasn't  a  bar- 
ber. Couldn't  he  get  something  else  to  do?" 

"How  is  your  friend,  the  Count  de  Montmorency,  Mr. 
Jones?"  asked  Mr.  Kidder,  the  next  morning. 

"I  believe  he  is  well,"  said  Alphonso,  shortly. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

HARD     UP. 

A  street  boy,  accustomed  to  live  from  hand  to  moutH, 
would  not  have  been  disconcerted  on  finding  himself  in 
Gilbert's  circumstances.  But  this  was  our  hero's  first 
experience  of  debt  which  he  was  unable  to  pay,  and  it 
troubled  him.  He  felt  embarrassed  at  the  dinner  table, 
knowing  that  he  was  eating  a  meal  for  which  he  had 
not  the  means  of  paying;  and  this  thought  not  only  in- 
terfered with  his  appetite,  but  made  him  unusually  silent 
and  reserved.  His  roommate  noticed  this,  and  spoke  of 
it  when  they  had  gone  up  to  their  room  together. 

"What  made  you  so  quiet,  Gilbert?"  he  asked.  "You 
scarcely  uttered  a  word  at  the  dinner  table." 

"The  fact  is,  Mr.  Ingalls,  I  am  in  trouble,"  answered 
Gilbert. 

"About  your  loss  of  place?  You  told  me  about  that, 
and  that  you  expected  to  get  it  back  when  your  employer 
returned." 

"So  I  do ;  but  there  is  another  trouble." 

"Troubles  never  come  singly,  they  say." 

"It  seems  to  be  true  in  my  case.  I  am  owing  for  a 
week's  board,  and  don't  know  where  I  shall  get  the  money 
to  pay  it." 

"I  thought  your  guardian  paid  your  board,"  said  Ingalls, 
who  was  acquainted  with  the  particulars  of  Gilbert's 
history.  ' 


170  Hard  Up. 

"So  he  did;  but  he  has  sailed  for  Europe  suddenly, 
without  making  any  provision  for  the  payment  of  my 
money." 

"How  long  is  he  to  be  gone?" 

"Two  or  three  months,  they  told  me  at  the  office." 

"That  is  rather  inconvenient.  If  you  were  only  a  few 
years  older,  there  would  be  a  remedy." 

"What  remedy?" 

(*""  "You  could  marry  Miss  Brintnall.  Mrs.  White  told 
me  the  other  day  that  Miss  Brintnall  has  saved  up  two  or 
three  thousand  dollars  from  her  earnings." 

"That  will  be  convenient  for  you  when  she  becomes 
Mrs.  Ingalls,"  said  Gilbert,  with  a  smile. 

"Do  you  think  I  would  sacrifice  myself  for  that  paltry 
sum?"  demanded  Ingalls,  with  much  indignation.     "Ten 
thousand  dollars  is  the  lowest  sum  for  which  I  will  sac- 
rifice my  liberty.     I'll  tell  you  who  is  most  likely  to  be- 
J  come  Miss  Brintnall's  husband,  that  is,  if  she  consents." 
^~  "Who?" 

"Alphonso  Jones." 

"What  makes  you  think  so?" 

"Alphonso  lacks  money  to  back  up  his  gentility.  H° 
only  gets  twelve  dollars  a  week,  Kidder  tells  me,  though 
he  claims  to  have  a  thousand  dollars  a  year.  Miss  Brint- 
nall's fortune  will  be  a  great  inducement  to  him." 

"You  forget  that  he  has  hopes  of  an  alliance  with  the 
sister  of  the  Count  de  Montmorency." 

"I  think  he  had  better  take  Miss  Brintnall,"  said  Mr. 
Ingalls,  dryly.  "Now,  to  come  back  to  your  affairs.  Ar* 
you  quite  out  of  money?" 


Hard  Up.  171 

"Almost.  I  gave  four  dollars  to  a  poor  family  a  day  or 
two  since,  not  expecting  that  I  was  to  be  left  this  way. 
I  have  about  fifty  cents  in  my  pocketbook,  and  I  owe  a 
week's  board." 

His  roommate  reflected  a  moment. 

"I  wish  I  were  richer,  Gilbert,"  he  said.  "As  it  is,  I 
can  lend  you  money  enough  to  pay  this  week's  board  bill 
Before  another  week  comes  round,  something  may  turn 
up." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Gilbert,  gratefully;  "but  I  don't  like 
to  rob  you." 

"You  won't  rob  me,  for  I  intend  to  let  you  repay  it 
when  you  can.  If  I  could  keep  it  up  till  your  guardian 
returns  I  would  do  so;  but  this  I.  can't  do.  I  will  tell 
you  what  I  would  do  in  your  case." 

"I  wish  you  would  advise  me,  for  I  don't  know  what 
to  do.  I  never  was  in  such  a  position  before." 

"It  was  understood  that  your  guardian  would  pay  your 
board  for  the  present,  was  it  not?" 

"Yes;  he  offered  to  do  it.  I  never  would  have  asked 
him." 

"You  say  he  left  no  directions  at  the  office  in  regard 
to  it?" 

"So  the  chief  clerk  told  me." 

"It  is  clear,  then,  that  it  escaped  his  mind  in  the  hurry 
of  an  unexpected  departure.  Probably  he  will  set  the 
matter  right  in  his  first  letter.  Wait  a  minute,  though. 
His  wife  and  son  probably  accompanied  him  to  the  steamer 
to  see  him  off." 

"I  suopose  so." 


172  Hard  Up. 

"Very  likely  he  spoke  to  them  about  it.  I  advise  you 
to  call  on  them  and  inquire." 

Gilbert  looked  reluctant. 

"It  may  be  as  you  say,"  said  he;  "but  I  don't  like  to 
speak  to  Mrs.  Briggs  on  the  subject.  She  dislikes  me,  and 
so  I  think  does  Randolph,  though  not  so  much  as  his 
mother." 

"So  you  have  told  me;  still  I  advise  you  to  call,  th* 
sooner  the  better,  in  my  opinion." 

"Suppose  I  get  no  satisfaction  ?" 

"In  that  case  you  will  know  what  to  look  forward  to. 
If  you  are  thrown  upon  your  own  resources  you  can  lay 
your  plans  accordingly." 

"I  should  like  to  know  the  worst,  at  any  rate,"  said 
Gilbert,  thoughtfully. 

"Then  take  my  advice,  and  call  this  evening  on  Mrs, 
Briggs." 

"I  will,"  said  Gilbert ;  "but  I  would  rather  have  a  tooth 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

AN     UNSATISFACTORY     CALL. 

Mr.  Ingalls  was  right  in  his  conjecture.  On  board 
the  steamer  Mr.  Briggs  had  thought  ot  his  young  ward, 
and  was  rather  annoyed  that  he  had  not  left  directions 
at  the  office  that  he  should  be  paid  his  regular  weekly 
stipend. 

"There  is  one  thing  which  I  have  forgotten,"  he  said 
to  his  wife. 

"What  is  it?"  she  inquired. 

"Gilbert  has  been  in  the  habit  of  coming  to  me  every 
week  for  his  board.  I  ought  to  have  left  directions  at 
the  office  with  Seymour  to  pay  him  in  my  place." 

He  forgot  that  Mrs.  Briggs  was  not  aware  of  this  ai> 
rangement.  She  was  not  slow  in  expressing  her  dis- 
satisfaction. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  that  boy  lives  on  youT 
she  exclaimed. 

"I  pay  his  board,  if  that  is  what  you  mean  by  living 
on  me." 

"That  is  what  it  amounts  to.    Why  permit  this?" 

"Surely,  you  don't  expect  that  Gilbert  will  pay  all  his 
expenses  out  of  five  dollars  a  week,"  said  her  husband. 

"Why  can't  he  get  along  as  well  as  other  boys  ?" 

"Other  boys  have  no  friends  able  to  help  them.  Gilbert's 
father  was  my  friend,  and  I  mean  to  stand  by  him." 

"Ho"r  -nuch  do  you  allow  Wm  for  board  ?" 


174  An  Unsatisfactory  Call. 

"Six  dollars  a  week." 

"Can't  he  get  boarded  cheaper?" 

"It  seems  to  me  that  six  dollars  is  very  cheap.  You 
remember  that  I  spent  a  hundred  dollars  a  week  for  you 
and  Randolph  and  myself  at  Saratoga  one  season.  That 
is  about  thirty-three  dollars  apiece." 

"There  is  no  resemblance  in  the  two  cases,"  said  Mrs. 
Briggs,  coldly.  "Gilbert  Greyson  is  only  a  working  boy." 

"And  I  am  a  working  man." 

"Don't  talk  foolishly,  Mr.  Briggs,"  said  his  wife, 
sharply. 

"I  have  not  much  time  to  talk  foolishly  or  otherwise. 
Will  you  attend  to  this  matter  of  Gilbert's  board?" 

"I  will  attend  to  it,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs. 

"Then  there  will  be  no  need  of  my  writing  to  the 
office." 

"No,  there  will  be  no  occasion  to  trouble  yourself  fur- 
ther in  the  matter." 

On  this  assurance  Mr.  Briggs  dismissed  Gilbert  from 
his  mind,  and  shortly  afterward  bade  good-by  to  his  wife 
and  son. 

"I  sometimes  think  your  father  is  actually  soft,"  said 
Mrs.  Briggs  to  Randolph,  on  the  way  over  the  ferry. 
"What  claim  has  that  Greyson  boy  upon  him,  that  he 
should  squander  six  dollars  a  week  upon  him  ?  And  that 
isn't  all,  I  presume.  I  have  no  doubt  the  boy  manages 
to  coax  extra  money  out  of  him  almost  every  week." 

"He  won't  get  it  out  of  you,  mother,"  said  Randolph. 

"I  should  say  not,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs,  very  emphatically. 
"I  should  feel  that  I  was  robbing  you.  If  vour  fathef 


An  Unsatisfactory  Call.  175 

impoverishes  himself  by  such  ill-timed  liberality,  you  will 
be  the  sufferer." 

"I  didn't  think  of  that,"  said  Randolph,  soberly. 

"I  don't,  of  course,  wish  to  be  mean  or  parsimonious/' 
continued  Mrs.  Briggs,  "but  I  hold  that  a  man's  first  duty 
is  to  his  own  family." 

"Of  course  it  is,"  said  Randolph,  who  felt  confident 
of  it  now  that  he  saw  the  bearing  upon  his  own  interests. 

"Will  you  give  Gilbert  the  six  dollars  a  week?"  he  in- 
quired. 

"Not  unless  he  asks  for  it,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs.  "If  he 
doesn't  need  it  there  will  be  no  occasion  to  offer  it." 

"If  he  don't  ask  for  it,  will  you  give  it  to  me?"  asked 
Randolph. 

"You  have  an  allowance  of  five  dollars  a  week  now. 
It  seems  to  me  that  ought  to  be  sufficient." 

"I  can't  save  anything  from  it.  If  you  give  me  the 
six  dollars  besides,  I'll  put  some  in  the  savings  bank." 

"I  will  wait  and  see  whether  the  boy  calls  for  it." 

"I  hope  he  won't." 

"He  probably  will.  He'll  take  all  he  can  get.  That 
is  his  nature." 

Mrs.  Briggs  quite  misread  Gilbert,  as  my  readers  will 
probably  judge;  but  she  was  too  prejudiced  to  judge 
him  fairly. 

Randolph  was  not  as  mean  as  his  mother.  He  had  a 
little  of  his  father's  nature,  though  he  was  more  like  his 
mother.  The  thought  that  it  would  impair  his  future  in- 
heritance did  not  much  affect  him,  but  the  prospect  of 
having  his  allowance  so  largely  increased  took  away  all 


176  An  Unsatisfactory  Call. 

consideration  for  Gilbert.  He  cared  very  little  whether 
our  hero  was  able  to  pay  his  board  or  not,  if  only  the 
money  might  be  paid  to  him.  He  was  very  selfish, 
certainly ;  but  he  loved  money  for  what  it  would  buy,  and 
not  for  its  own  sake,  as  was  the  case  with  his  mother. 
Of  course  he  hoped  that  Gilbert  would  not  present  him- 
self at  the  house,  or  make  inquiry  for  the  money;  but  in 
this  he  was  destined  to  be  disappointed. 

Sitting  at  the  window  on  the  evening  Gilbert  had  re- 
solved to  call,  he  saw,  not  without  disappointment,  our 
hero  mount  the  steps  and  ring  the  bell. 

"He's  corne,  mother,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  of  regret. 

"Who  has  come?" 

"Gilbert  Greyson.  I  suppose  he  has  come  for  his  six 
dollars." 

"I  suppose  he  has,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs,  with  a  curl  of 
the  lip.  "I  knew  he  wouldn't  keep  away  long.  Now, 
Randolph,  one  thing  I  ask — don't  say  a  word  about  the 
matter.  I  want  to  make  him  introduce  the  subject  him- 
self. I  don't  wish  to  spare  him  any  embarrassment." 

"All  right,  mother." 

Directly  the  door  opened,  and  Gilbert  entered. 

"Good-evening,  Mrs.  Briggs,"  he  said,  approaching  and 
taking  the  lady's  hand.  She  just  touched  his  hand  coldly 
and  withdrew  hers. 

"Good-evening,"  she  said,  briefly. 

"Good-evening,  Randolph,"  said  Gilbert,  turning  to  th? 
younger  member  of  the  party. 

"Good-evening,"  said  Randolph,  less  frigidly.  "Havt 
von  gor  a  £lace  yet  ?" 


An  Unsatisfactory  Call.  177 

"Not  yet.  My  employer  has  not  returned  from  Wash- 
ington." 

"Probably  it  will  make  very  little  difference  to  you  how 
long  he  stays,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs,  disagreeably. 

"I  hope  it  will  make  considerable,"  returned  Gilbert. 
"I  was  surprised  to  hear  that  Mr.  Briggs  had  gone  to 
Europe." 

"He  went  very  suddenly,"  said  Randolph.  "It  has  put 
off  my  birthday  party." 

"I  should  like  to  have  seen  him  before  he  went,"  said 
Gilbert. 

"He  had  no  time  to  notify  all  hie  acquaintances  that 
he  was  going,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs. 

"How  long  will  he  be  gone?" 

"It  is  quite  uncertain,"  said  the  lady,  shortly.  "It  will 
depend  on  his  business,  of  course." 

"I  wish  this  visit  were  well  over,"  thought  Gilbert,  but 
he  felt  that  he  must  introduce  the  matter  which  led  to 
bis  call. 

"Did  Mr.  Briggs  leave  any  message  for  me?"  he  in- 
quired. 

" Any  message  for  you  ?"  repeated  Mrs.  Briggs,  arching 
her  eybrows.  "Why  should  you  expect  that  he  would 
leave  any  message  for  you?" 

"Perhaps  you  are  not  aware,"  said  Gilbert,  uncom- 
fortably, "that  Mr.  Briggs,  while  I  am  at  work  on  small 
Wages,  has  been  in  the  habit  of  paying  my  board." 

"Indeed !"  said  Mrs.  Briggs,  in  apparent  surprise.  "Whv  f 
should  he  do  that?" 


178  An  Unsatisfactory  Call. 

"Out  of  friendship  for  my  father,  he  told  me,"  said 
Gilbert. 

"I  should  hardly  have  supposed  that  you  would  request 
such  a  thing  of  one  not  related  to  you." 

"I  didn't  request  it,"  said  Gilbert,  coloring.  "Mr. 
Briggs  was  kind  enough  to  offer  to  do  it.  I  accepted,  on 
condition  that  I  might  hereafter  repay  him  what  money 
he  should  advance." 

"It  is  not  very  likely  the  money  will  ever  be  repaid," 
said  Mrs.  Briggs,  coldly. 

"It  will  be  repaid  if  I  live,"  said  Gilbert,  warmly. 

"I  have  heard  such  promises  before,"  said  the  lady,  con- 
temptuously. "They  arc  generally  made  to  be  broken." 

"Not  in  my  case,"  said  Gilbert,  flushing. 

"I  will  not  discuss  the  matter,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs,  coldly. 
"May  I  ask  why  you  have  introduced  this  subject?" 

"Mr.  Briggs  gave  me  no  notice  that  he  intended  to 
withdraw  his  assistance,  and  I  accordingly  went  to  the 
office  yesterday,  only  to  learn  that  he  had  gone  to  Europe, 
and  left  no  message  there.  I  thought  he  might  possiblj 
have  spoken  to  you  on  the  subject,  and  therefore  I  called. 
My  board  bill,  amounting  to  six  dollars,  is  due  to-night, 
ard  unfortunately  I  have  no  funds  to  meet  it." 

"li  must  be  rather  humiliating  for  you  to  accept  char- 
ity," said  Mrs.  Briggs.  "I  don't  think  my  son  would  be 
willing  to  do  it." 

"I  should  say  not,"  said  Randolph. 

"Say  nothing  more,  Mrs.  Briggs,"  said  Gilbert,  rising. 
"If  you  regard  it  in  that  light,  I  wish  no  assistance." 

"I  don't  wish  you  to  suffer,"  continued  Mrs.  Brigg&. 


An  Unsatisfactory  Call. 

coldly.  "I  will  give  you  money  for  your  board  bill,  if  you 
will  tell  me  how  much  it  amounts  to." 

"Thank  you,  I  won't  trouble  you,"  said  Gilbert.  "I 
shall  get  along  somehow.  Good-evening." 

"You  are  impetuous.  You  will  bear  in  mind  that  I 
have  not  refused  you  the  money." 

"I  will  bear  it  in  mind.    Good-evening,  madam." 

"You  did  it  well,  mother,"  said  Randolph,  admiringly, 
as  our  hero  left  the  house.  "Will  you  give  me  the  six 
dollars,  now  he  has  refused  it?" 

"I  will  give  it  to  you  this  week,  Randolph;  but  mind, 
I  make  no  promises  for  the  future." 

"I  guess  it's  all  right,"  thought  Randolph,  pocketing 
the  bills  complacently.  "I'll  take  care  she  keeps  it  up." 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 
GILBERT'S  PLANS. 

Gilbert  left  the  house  of  Mrs.  Briggs,  not  cast  down* 
but  with  a  full  understanding  of  his  situation.  Until  now 
fee  had  his  guardian's  assistance,  and,  with  the  income 
from  his  position  as  office  boy,  had  felt  no  anxiety.  Now, 
both  had  failed  him,  for  the  time  at  least,  and  he  must 
shift  for  himself.  Disaster  develops  the  manhood  in  a  boy 
as  well  as  a  man.  So  Gilbert  did  not  indulge  in  any 
gloomy  anticipations  of  starvation  or  pauperism.  He 
never  for  a  moment  regretted  his  refusal  to  take  money 
from  Mrs.  Briggs,  offered  as  it  had  been  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  insult  his  self-respect. 

"I'd  rather  live  on  one  meal  a  day,"  he  said  to  himself, 
stoutly,  "than  humble  myself  to  that  woman." 

When  he  re-entered  his  room  he  found  his  roommate 
reading. 

"Well,  Gilbert,"  he  said,  "did  you  have  a  pleasant 
call?" 

"So  pleasant  that  I  shall  not  call  again  in  a  hurry," 
answered  Gilbert. 

"Then  Mrs.  Briggs  won't  give  you  any  assistance?" 

"Yes ;  but  I  have  rejected  it." 

Mr.  Ingalls  looked  surprised. 

"Did  you  not  act  unwisely  ?"  he  asked. 

"Let  me  tell  you  just  what  passed  Detween  us,  and  you 
shall  judge." 


Gilbert's  Plans.  181 

The  young  man  listened  attentively.  When  Gilbert 
had  finished  his  story  he  said,  emphatically:  "You  did 
just  right.  I  should  have  done  the  same  thing  in  your 
circumstances." 

"I  am  glad  you  approve  of  my  action.  I  couldn't  stoop 
to  take  money  offered  as  charity." 

"Then  you  have  got  to  strike  out  for  yourself,  it 
seems  ?" 

"Yes ;  and  I  must  settle  to-night  what  I  shall  do." 

"Have  you  made  up  your  mind  to  anything?" 

"I  was  thinking  about  that  as  I  walked  home.  To 
begin  with,  I  will  borrow  money  of  you  to  pay  Mrs.  White 
if  you  are  still  willing  to  lend  it." 

"I  will  lend  it  to  you  with  pleasure." 

"I  think  I  had  better  leave  this  house,  obtain  a  cheaper 
room,  and  board  at  a  restaurant." 

"I  don't  think  you  can  save  much  that  way.  Mrs. 
White  is  very  reasonable  in  her  charges." 

"I  know  that,  but  the  probability  is  that  I  can't  pay 
her.  I  must  be  strictly  economical.  I  am  not  sure  but 
the  best  thing  I  can  do  is  to  go  to  the  Newsboys'  Lodge." 

Mr.  Ingalls  shook  his  head. 

"It  would  never  do,"  he  said.  "It  would  not  suit  a 
boy  brought  up  as  you  have  been." 

"I  don't  suppose  it  would;  but  I  don't  expect  to  suit 
myself.  That  is  not  the  question  with  me.  I  must  do 
as  I  can." 

"Then  stay  here.  If  you  can't  pay  your  whole  board  at 
the  weejc's  end  I  will  make  up  the  balance.  I  should  have 
to  pay  more,  at  any  rate,  if  I  occupied  the  room  alone.*' 


i8a  Gilbert's  Plans. 

Gilbert  reflected  a  moment. 

"You  are  very  kind,  Mr.  Ingalls,"  he  said,  "and  I  will 
accept  your  offer,  on  one  condition." 

"What  is  that?" 

"That  you  lend  me  the  money,  and  I  will  repay  it  as 
soon  as  I  am  able." 

"I  agree  to  that." 

"Then  I  will  stay  for  a  week  or  two  at  least.  Now  I 
want  to  ask  your  advice.  I  must  find  something  to  do 
at  once." 

"I  wish  there  was  a  vacancy  in  our  establishment." 

"I  only  want  temporary  employment.  I  expect  Mr. 
Sands  will  take  me  back  on  his  return." 

"I  didn't  think  of  that.  Have  you  thought  of  any- 
thing?" 

"I  am  going  to  try  my  luck  as  a  newsboy." 

"As  a  newsboy !  What  will  your  friends,  the  Vivians, 
say?" 

"I  don't  know,  and  I  can't  afford  to  care.  I  must  get 
a  living  somehow  for  the  next  few  days,  and  I  would 
rather  sell  papers  than  black  boots.  In  the  afternoon 
I  shall  try  to  get  a  little  baggage  smashing  to  do." 

"I  admire  your  pluck,  Gilbert,"  said  his  roommate. 
"Not  many  boys,  brought  up  as  you  have  been,  would 
be  willing  to  sell  papers  in  the  streets." 

"I  don't  pretend  to  like  it,"  said  Gilbert ;  "but  I  would 
rather  do  it  than  sponge  on  others,  or  take  money  flung 
at  me  as  alms.  If  you  object  to  rooming  with  a  common 
newsboy,"  he  added,  smiling,  "I  suppose  I  must  look  for 
another  boarding  place." 


Gilbert's  Plans.  183 

"Wait  till  I  g'ive  you  notice  to  quit,"  said  Ingalls.  "In 
the  meantime  I  will  do  all  I  can  to  encourage  you.  I  will 
buy  a  morning  paper  of  you  to-morrow  morning.  Where 
shall  you  stand?" 

"Near  the  Times  building,  I  think.  Don't  forget  your 
promise,  now.  If  I  have  one  customer  engaged  I  shall 
sleep  more  soundly." 

"You  can  rely  upon  me.  Have  you  got  money  enough 
to  start  yourself  in  business?  If  not,  command  my 
purse." 

"I  will  borrow  fifty  cents,  to  make  sure  that  I  have 
enough.  Now,  as  I  must  be  up  betimes  and  take  an  early 
breakfast,  I  think  I  will  turn  in." 

"Good-night,  then.  I  will  stay  up  and  read  a  while 
longer." 

"He's  a  plucky  boy,"  thought  the  young  man.  "H< 
deserves  to  succeed,  and  I  believe  he  will/* 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

GILBERT    BECOMES    A  NEWSBOY. 

At  an  early  hour  the  next  morning  Gilbert  took  his 
stand  near  the  office  of  the  daily  Times.     He  attracted 
immediate  attention  from  the  members  of  the  new  pro- 
fession in  which  he  had  enrolled  himself  without  pes 
mission. 

"What  are  you  doin'  here?"  asked  Jim  Noonan,  a  tall 
newsboy,  with  red  hair  and  freckled  face. 

"I  am  selling  papers,"  answered  Gilbert,  quietly. 

"What  business  have  you  here,  anyhow?  That's  mjf 
place." 

"I  shall  not  interfere  with  you." 

"You'd  better  not,"  said  Jim,  pugnaciously,  under  tho 
impression  that  Gilbert  was  apologizing.  "Just  you  leav? 
here!" 

Gilbert  eyed  him  quietly. 

"I  shall  not  interfere  with  you,"  he  repeated ;  "nor  will 
I  allow  you  to  interfere  with  me,"  he  added,  firmly. 

Jim  looked  at  him  attentively,  and  his  opinion  of  hin* 
was  somewhat  altered. 

"What  does  a  boy  with  good  clothes  want  selling  pa» 
pers  ?"  he  asked. 

"He  wants  to  make  a  living,"  said  Gilbert.  "Paper, 
sir?" 

The  man  addressed  purchased  a  four-cent  paper.  Gil- 
bert made  change  in  a  business-like  manner,  and  directty 


Gilbert  Becomes  a  Newsboy.  185 

afterward  sold  another,  while  Jim  Noonan  looked  on 
enviously. 

"I've  a  good  mind  to  bust  your  head,"  he  said,  angrily. 

"Better  go  to  work  and  look  for  customers,"  suggested 
Gilbert,  coolly. 

Jim  eyed  him  with  angry  discontent.  He  would  liked 
to  have  pitched  into  him,  but  Gilbert  was  compactly  made, 
and,  though  smaller  than  his  fellow  newsboy,  looked 
difficult  to  handle.  Jim  had  hoped  to  frighten  him ;  but 
his  success  was  not  encouraging. 

Gilbert,  on  the  whole,  succeeded  beyond  his  anticipa- 
tions. Probably  his  appearance  was  in  his  favor,  and 
attracted  customers.  But  this  was  not  all.  He  was  quick 
and  alert  in  manner,  and  kept  a  good  lookout  for  trade. 

"How  many  papers  have  you  sold?"  asked  Jim,  aftet 
a  while. 

"Fifty,"  answered  Gilbert. 

"Fifty!"  ejaculated  Jim.  "Why,  I  ain't  sold  but 
twenty." 

"You  haven't  attended  to  business  as  closely  as  I  have.'* 

"Ef  it  hadn't  been  for  you  I'd  have  sold  a  good  many 
more." 

"That  isn't  the  reason.  You  would  have  sold  as  many 
as  I  if  you  had  tried  as  hard." 

"It's  mean,  a  boy  like  you  comin1  down  and  takin*  away 
a  poor  boy's  business." 

"I  shan't  sell  papers  any  longer  than  I  have  to.  I  hope 
next  week  to  go  into  something  else." 

Just  then  a  gentleman  inquired  for  a  paper  which  Gil- 
bert was  out  of. 


186  Gilbert  Becomes  a  Newsboy. 

"I  think  he's  got  it,"  said  Gilbert,  pointing  to  Jim, 
thereby  obtaining  a  customer  for  the  latter. 

"We  may  as  well  help  each  other,"  said  Gilbert. 
"There's  no  use  in  quarreling." 

"Do  you  mean  that?"  asked  Jim,  doubtfully. 

"Yes,  I  do." 

"You  ain't  as  mean  as  I  thought  you  was,"  said  Jim, 
his  dislike  beginning  to  evaporate. 

"I  hope  you'll  stick  to  that  opinion,"  said  Gilbert,  good- 
tiumoredly.  "When  I  go  out  of  this  business  I'll  recom- 
mend my  friends  to  patronize  you." 

Thus  far  Gilbert  had  seen  no  one  whom  he  knew.  That 
trial  was  yet  to  come.  I  call  it  a  trial,  because  Gilbert 
was  quite  aware  that  in  becoming  a  newsboy  he  had  made 
a  descent  in  the  social  scale.  He  had  taken  the  step 
as  a  matter  of  necessity,  and  not  because  he  liked  it. 
He  knew  very  well  how  it  would  be  regarded  by  his 
acquaintances,  and  he  rather  dreaded  the  expressions  of 
surprise  which  it  would  elicit. 

The  first  acquaintance  to  greet  him  was  Alphonso 
Jones. 

"Good  gracious,  Greyson !"  he  exclaimed,  "what  are  you 
doing  here  ?" 

"Selling  papers,"  answered  Gilbert,  flushing  a  little. 

"I  thought  you  was  in  a  broker's  office." 

"So  I  was,  and  hope  to  be  again ;  but  just  now  I'm  out 
of  a  place,  so  I've  gone  into  business  on  my  own  ac- 
count." 

"But,  good  gracious,  how  can  you  sell  papers?" 


Gilbert  Becomes  a  Newsboy.  187 

"It's  the  only  thing  that  offered,  and  I  must  earn  my 
living." 

"Suppose  the  Count  Ernest  de  Montmorency  should  see 
you — what  would  he  say?" 

"I  hope  he  would  buy  a  paper  of  me,"  returned  Gilbert, 
smiling. 

"And  your  friends,  the  Vivians — they  would  be  awfully 
shocked." 

"I  can't  help  it.  I  must  earn  a  living.  Won't  you 
have  a  paper,  Mr.  Jones?  I've  got  all  the  morning  pa- 
pers— Times,  Tribune,  Herald,  Sun." 

"I'm  afraid  I  haven't  got  any  change,"  said  Alphonso, 
whose  large  expenditure  for  clothing  compelled  him  to 
economize  on  minor  matters.  "But,  really,  now,  you  ain't 
going  to  keep  the  thing  up,  are  you?" 

"Till  I  get  something  better,"  said  Gilbert,  firmly.  "I 
hope  that  will  be  soon.  I  don't  like  it  myself." 

"It's  so — so  ungentlemanly  a  business." 

"I  don't  agree  with  you,  Mr.  Jones;  I  think  it  per- 
fectly respectable." 

"Oh!  yes,  of  course;  but  it  is  not  high-toned,  you'll 
admit  that." 

"Perhaps  not,"  said  Gilbert,  with  a  smile.  "I  don't 
pretend  to  be  a  judge  of  what  is  high-toned.  I  hope  you 
won't  cut  my  acquaintance,  Mr.  Jones,  because  I  am  a 
newsboy." 

"O£i !  no,  of  course  not ;  but  I  am  afraid  your  friends, 
the  Vivians,  will." 


1 88  Gilbert  Becomes  a  Newsboy. 

"I  hope  not,"  said  Gilbert. 

Alphonso  Jones  departed,  and  next  in  order  came  John 
«— Gilbert's  successor  at  the  broker's. 

"Oh,  my  eye!"  he  exclaimed,  in  genuine  astonishment; 
"you  don't  mean  to  Say  you've  turned  newsboy  ?" 

"Yes,  I  have.     Will  you  buy  a  paper  ?" 

"Haven't  got  a  cent.  How's  business?"  asked  John, 
with  a  grin. 

"Pretty  good." 

"Hope  you've  got  a  permanent  situation." 

"I  think  not.  I  don't  expect  to  sell  papers  more  than 
a  week." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  then?1' 

"Going  back  into  the  office." 

"What  office?" 

"Mr.  Sands'  office." 

"Do  you  think  he'd  take  back  a " 

"Stop  there!"  said  Gilbert,  sternly.  "You  know  very 
well  the  charge  against  me  is  false.  Fortunately,  I  am  in 
a  position  to  prove  it." 

"You  are?"  asked  John,  in  alarm. 

"Yes." 

"How  can  you  prove  it?" 

"I  will  let  you  know  when  the  time  comes." 

John  was  not  disposed  to  continue  the  conversation. 
He  walked  back  to  the  office,  and  told  Simon  Moore  that 
Gilbert  was  selling  papers  in  the  square. 

"I  am  glad  his  gride  is  brought  low,"  said  Moore,  with 
satisfaction, 


Gilbert  Becomes  a  Newsboy.  189 

"But  it  isn't,"  said  John.  "He  is  as  proud  as  ever. 
He  says  he  is  coming  back  here." 

"Let  him  talk,"  said  the  bookkeeper,  contemptuously. 
"That  is  all  it  will  amount  to." 

But  John  did  not  feel  quite  certain  of  this. 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 
GILBERT'S    SECOND    DAY. 

"How  much  did  you  make  in  your  new  business,  Gil- 
bert?" inquired  his  roommate,  Ingalls,  with  interest,  at 
the  close  of  his  first  day's  experience. 

"Seventy-five  cents,"  answered  Gilbert. 

"That  is  quite  fair." 

"I  suppose  it  is  all  I  could  reasonably  expect,  but  it 
won't  pay  my  expenses.  At  that  rate,  my  weekly  income 
will  be  but  four  dollars  and  a  half,  while,  as  you  know,  my 
board  amounts  to  six  dollars." 

"I  will  pay  the  extra  dollar  and  a  half." 

"You  are  a  true  friend,  Mr.  Ingalls,"  said  Gilbert,  grate- 
fully, "but  that  doesn't  dispose  of  all  my  difficulties.  I 
shall  have  no  money  for  washing  or  to  purchase  cloth- 
ing." 

"But  you  expect  to  get  your  place  back  in  a  week." 

"Even  if  I  do,  my  income  will  be  only  five  dollars.  I 
never  supposed  it  was  so  difficult  to  make  a  living  be- 
fore." 

"Wait  and  hope,  Gilbert,"  said  his  roommate,  cheerfully. 
"That  is  what  I  had  to  do  when  I  first  came  to  the  city. 
It  was  weeks  before  I  got  anything  to  do  at  all.  I  got 
almost  discouraged.  Finally,  through  the  influence  of  a 
friend,  I  got  a  foothold,  and  have  been  able  to  live  com- 
fortably ever  since." 

"I  won't  get  discouraged  just  yet,  at  any  rate,"  said 


Gilbert's  Second  Day.  191 

Gilbert.  "I  will  wait  and  see  how  things  come  out.  If 
I  am  forced  to  remain  in  the  paper  business,  I  must  find 
some  way  of  increasing  my  income.  I  might  combine  a 
little  baggage-smashing  with  it." 

"That's  one  thing  I  like  about  you,  Gilbert,"  said  the 
young  manT~~7rYou''ha've  no  false  shame,  but  undertake 
whatever  work  you  find  to  do." 

"I  am  not  wholly  without  pride,  Mr.  Ingalls ;  but  I  can't 
afford  to  indulge  it.  I  shall  get  out  of  this  street  busi- 
ness as  soon  as  I  can." 

"You  are  justified  in  that,  certainly.  It  shows  a  proper 
ambition." 

The  next  day  Gilbert  sought  his  chosen  place,  and  again 
proceeded  to  sell  his  stock  of  daily  papers,  with  about  the 
same  measure  of  success. 

At  about  half-past  ten  he  caught  sight  of  a  familiar  face. 
His  own  face  blushed  uncomfortably,  for  Randolph 
Briggs  was  about  the  last  person  he  wished  to  see,  under 
the  circumstances. 

Randolph,  who  was  rather  nearsighted,  did  not  rec- 
ognize him  till  he  was  close  upon  him.  Gilbert  had  a 
momentary  impulse  to  desert  his  post,  and  thus  escape  the 
notice  of  his  unwelcome  acquaintance;  but  this  impulse 
was  succeeded  by  the  more  manly  resolve  to  stand  his 
ground. 

"I  have  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"It  is  Randolph,  or,  rather,  his  mother,  who  should  be 
ashamed." 

He  "Was  in  the  act  of  selling  a  Herald  when  Randolph 
came  up. 


192  Gilbert's  Second  Day. 

"Gilbert  Greyson!"  exclaimed  Randolph,  in  an»aa*- 
ment. 

"Good-morning,  Randolph/'  said  Gilbert,  quietly. 

"What  are  you  doing?" 

"Selling  papers,  as  you  see." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  you  have  become  a  common 
newsboy  ?" 

"I  don't  know  whether  I  am  a  common  or  uncommon 
newsboy,  but  a  newsboy  I  certainly  am,  just  at  present." 

"What  induced  you  to  take  up  such  a  business?" 

'The  necessity  of  making  a  living." 

"Why  didn't  you  take  the  money  my  mother  offered 
you?" 

"Because  she  offered  it  as  charity.  I  don't  accept 
charity." 

"It  seems  to  me  you  are  poor  and  proud." 

""I  certainly  am  poor,  and  my  pride,  I  hope,  is  a  proper 
one." 

"I  should  be  too  proud  to  sell  papers  in  the  streets,"  said 
Randolph,  emphatically. 

"Perhaps  you  wouldn't  in  my  case." 

"I  never  expect  to  be  in  your  case.*' 

".I  hope  you  won't." 

"You  know,  of  course,  you  will  have  to  give  up  your 
fashionable  acquaintances." 

"Does  that  mean  you  and  your  mother?"  inquired  Gil- 
bert, smiling. 

"Yes,  partly,"  answered  Randolph,  seriously.  "Then, 
there  are  the  Vivians.  .You  wouldn't  presum*  to  call 
upon  them  now  ?" 


Gilbert's  Second  Day.  193 

"Why  not?" 

"Do  you  suppose  they  admit  newsboys  in  the  list  of 
tiieir  visitors?" 

"I  don't  know ;  but  I  shall  soon  find  out" 

"How?" 

"I  mean  to  call  there  very  soon." 

"I   wouldn't.     You   wouldn't  be   welcome.** 

"How  do  you  know  that?" 

"It  stands  to  reason,"  argued  Randolph.  "They  stand 
very  high  in  the  social  scale,  and  a  newsboy  is  very  low.** 

"I  don't  think  the  Vivians  and  you  quite  agree  in  some 
matters.  If  I  find  I  am  not  welcome,  you  may  be  sure  1 
won't  repeat  the  call." 

"You  will  see  I  am  right." 

"I  suppose,  from  what  you  say,  that  I  shall  not  be  wel- 
come at  your  house?"  said  Gilbert,  rather  amused. 

"Why,  you  might  call  when  no  one  is  there.  Of 
course,  we  couldn't  introduce  you  to  our  friends." 

"I  think  the  safest  way  will  be  not  to  call  at  all.** 

"That's  so,"  said  Randolph,  and  he  walked  on. 

"I  suppose  that  is  the  way  of  the  world,"  thought  GH- 
bert.  "Well,  I  expected  it,  and,  so  far  as  Randolph  and 
his  mother  are  concerned,  I  shall  not  have  much  tOi 
regret." 

At  half -past  twelve  he  stood  with  his  last  paper  in  his 
hand.  They  had  gone  off  more  slowly  than  the  day  be- 
fore, and  he  doubted  whether  he  could  dispose  of  the 
last  one. 

"Good-morning,  Gilbert,"  said  a  cordial  voice.  "Arc 
you  reading  the  paper?" 


194  Gilbert's  Second  Day. 

"No,  Mr.  Vivian,"  answered  our  hero;  "I  am  trying 
to  sell  it." 

"What!     Have  you  turned  newsboy ?" 

'Yes,  sir.  I  could  think  of  nothing  else  to  do,  and  I 
must  do  something." 

"Was  this  necessary?"  asked  the  merchant,  in  a  tone 
of  sympathy. 

"Yes,  sir ;  I  have  nothing  to  depend  upon,  except  what 
I  can  make  in  this  way." 

"You  can't  make  a  living,  can  you  ?" 

"I  am  afraid  not  by  this  alone,"  said  Gilbert 

"Have  you  had  lunch?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Then  come  with  me  to  the  Astor  House  restaurant. 
There  we  will  talk  over  your  affairs,  and  perhaps  I  can 
suggest  something  that  will  be  more  to  your  advantage 
than  your  present  employment." 

"Thank  you,  sir;  I  shall  feel  very  grateful  for  youf 
advice." 

They  went  to  the  Astor  House,  which  was  very  near, 
and  seated  themselves  at  a  table.  Mr.  Vivian  ordered 
a  substantial  lunch,  considerably  better  than  Gilbert  could 
have  afforded  on  his  own  account.  In  fact,  he  had  de- 
cided to  content  himself  with  an  apple,  and  make  that  do 
till  the  six-o'clock  dinner  at  bis  boarding  house. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

A    NOVEL    PROPOSITION. 

A  liberal  lunch  was  ordered,  and  placed  before  them. 

"My  time  is  limited,"  said  Mr.  Vivian,  "and  we  will 
economize  it  by  discussing  lunch  and  your  affairs  at  tfa$ 
^ame  time.  How  much  do  you  pay  for  board  ?" 

"Six  dollars  a  week,"  answered  Gilbert. 

"That  is  very  little,"  said  the  merchant. 

"I  room  with  another  person,  and  thus  secure  more 
favorable  terms." 

"Are  your  meals  satisfactory?" 

"The  food  is  plain,  but  good.  I  have  nothing  to  com- 
plain of.  I  should  like  nothing  better  than  to  feel  sure 
that  I  could  continue  to  pay  my  expenses  at  this  rate." 

"That  is  well,"  said  Mr.  Vivian,  approvingly.  "I  lik« 
your  spirit.  You  are  not  disposed  to  find  unnecessary 
fault.  Then  you  cannot  make  six  dollars  a  week  by  sell* 
ing  papers  ?" 

"No,  sir;  at  least,  I  have  not  done  so  thus  far.  Yes- 
terday I  made  seventy  cents,  and  to-day  about  the  same 
*um." 

"That  will  never  do.  It  leaves  you  nothing  for  wash- 
big  or  clothes." 

"No,  sir.  However,  I  am  pretty  well  provided  witH 
clothes.  I  don't  expect  to  require  anything  in  that  line 
Aw  six  months," 


196  A  Novel  Proposition. 

"Probably  you  couldn't  put  off  washing  for  so  long," 
suggested  Mr.  Vivian,  with  a  smile. 

"Hardly,"  answered  Gilbert. 

"Before  you  came  to  the  city,"  said  Mr.  Vivian,  ap- 
parently changing  the  subject,  "you  were  studying  for 
College,  were  you  not?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"How  far  had  you  proceeded?" 

"By  next  summer  I  could  easily  have  been  ready  tc 
6nter  Yale  College;  if  necessary,  earlier." 

"Then  you  must  be  a  good  classical  scholar  already." 

"A  fair  one,"  said  Gilbert,  modestly. 

"Did  you  ever  think  of  teaching?" 

Gilbert  looked  surprised. 

"I  don't  know  who  would  employ  a  boy  like  me,"  he 
Said. 

"You  would  be  competent  to  instruct  a  beginner  in 
Latin  and  the  common  English  studies,  I  suppose  ?" 

"I  ought  to  be,  sir." 

"Then  I  will  tell  you  an  idea  I  have  had  in  mind  for  a 
jyeek  or  more.  My  boy,  Fred,  is  attending  a  classical 
school,  but  his  progress  is  not  satisfactory  to  me.  I  don't 
think  him  lacking  in  capacity,  but  he  does  not  apply  him- 
self as  he  ought.  It  has  occurred  to  me  that  assistance  in 
the  evening  would  materially  aid  him,  and  promote  his 
Standing  in  school.  Except  in  Latin,  I  could  myself 
assist  him,  but  after  the  business  and  perplexities  of  the 
day,  I  am  in  no  mood  to  turn  teacher.  Now,  you  are 
competent,  and  Fred  has  taken  a  fancy  to  you.  Are  you 
willing  to  give  him  five  evenings  a  week?" 


A  Novel  Proposition.  197 

'Nothing  would  suit  me  better,  sir,"  said  Gilbert, 
quickly.  "I  like  Fred,  and  would  do  my  best  to  be  of 
service  to  him." 

Mr.  Vivian  looked  pleased. 

"Then,"  he  said,  "I  see  no  reason  why  we  should  not 
try  the  experiment.  The  only  thing  remaining  to  be  dis- 
cussed is  the  compensation." 

"I  leave  that  to  you,  sir." 

"I  may  take  advantage  of  your  confidence,"  said  the 
merchant. 

"I  don't  feel  alarmed,"  said  Gilbert,  smiling. 

"Suppose,  then,  we  say  ten  dollars  a  week  for  five 
evenings." 

"Ten  dollars!"  exclaimed  Gilbert,  in  amazement. 

"If  that  is  not  adequate " 

"Why,  Mr.  Vivian,  my  services  would  never  be  worth 
ten  dollars  a  week.  Remember,  sir,  I  am  only  a  boy,  and 
inexperienced  as  a  teacher." 

"I  believe  you  will  do  Fred  more  good  than  an  older 
and  more  experienced  teacher.  He  takes  to  you,  and  will 
work  cheerfully  with  you,  while  I  don't  think  he  would 
with  the  other." 

"But  ten  dollars  a  week  is  a  large  sum  for  you  to  pay, 
Mr.  Vivian." 

"I  believe  in  paying  a  good  price,  and  requiring  good, 
faithful  work,  such  as  I  think  you  will  render." 

"I  will  try  to  render  it,  at  any  rate,  sir." 

"Then  it  is  a  bargain,  is  it?" 

"Yes,  sir,  if  you  say  so.  I  need  not  say  that  it  will  be 
a  very  great  help  to  me." 


198  A  Novel  Proposition. 

"I  know  that,  Gilbert;  and  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to 
serve  you,  at  the  same  time  that  I  serve  myself.  When 
I  was  a  boy  I  was  in  limited  circumstances.  The  mem- 
ory of  my  own  past  makes  me  considerate  of  others. 
(Now,  when  will  you  begin?" 

"This  evening,  if  you  like." 

"I  should  like  it.  We  will  expect  you  then.  Here  is 
a  week's  pay  in  advance." 

Mr.  Vivian  took  from  his  pocketbook  a  ten-dollar  bill 
and  placed  it  in  Gilbert's  hands. 

"Under  the  circumstances,"  he  said,  "you  may  as  well 
give  up  selling  papers." 

"I  shall  be  very  glad  to  give  it  up,  sir,  and  now  I  shall 
leel  able  to  do  so." 

"I  appreciate  and  respect  your  motives  in  doing  what 
you  could  find  to  do,  but  now  you  are  a  teacher — a  classi- 
cal professor — and  must  do  nothing  incompatible  with 
the  dignity  of  your  learned  profession." 

"I  will  try  to  remember  it,  sir." 

"I  must  leave  you,  now.     Let  us  see  you  this  evening." 

"I  will  be  sure  to  come,  sir." 

When  Gilbert  left  the  hotel,  he  felt  elated  at  his  un- 
expected good  fortune. 

"I  believe  the  tide  has  turned,"  he  said  to  himself.  "I 
little  dreamed  that  my  Latin  would  prove  such  a  friend 
in  need.  I  can't  expect  to  earn  the  liberal  sum  Mr. 
Vivian  has  agreed  to  pay  me,  but  I  will  do  my  duty  as 
faithfully  and  well  as  I  can." 

Just  after  dinner  that  evening  Alphonso  Jones  strolled 
into  Gilbert's  room. 


A  Novel  Proposition.  199 

"How  is  the  newspaper  business?"  he  inquired. 

"Pretty  fair,"  answered  Gilbert. 

"I  think  we  ought  to  patronize  Mr.  Greyson,  eh!  Mr. 
Ingalls?" 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Jones,  but  I  have  retired  from  the 
business." 

"You  don't  say !     Why,  you  told  me  it  was  fair." 

"I  shall  retire,  nevertheless." 

"Have  you  found  another  place  ?" 

"I  have  obtained  another  position." 

"You  have!    What  is  it?" 

"Professor  of  the  classics  and  English  literature." 

"You're  joking,"  remarked  Alphonso,  rather  bewil- 
dered. 

"No,  I  am  not.  I  have  been  engaged  to  teach  five 
evenings  in  the  week." 

"I  didn't  know  you  were  such  a  scholar,"  said  Mr. 
Jones,  surprised.  "Do  they  pay  you  much?" 

"Two  dollars  an  evening." 

"Good  gracious !    That  is  splendid  pay." 

"Yes,  it  is  very  good  pay." 

"Where  are  you  to  teach  ?" 

"Mr.  Vivian's   son." 

"He  doesn't  know  that  you  have  been  a  newsboy, 
does  he?" 

"Yes,  he  does;  he  saw  me  selling  papers  in  the  street 
to-day." 

"Well,  Greyson,  all  I  can  say  is,  you  are  the  luckiest 
boy  I  ever  knew.  I  wish  I  could  earn  two  dollars  an 
evening-" 


goo  A  Novel  Proposition. 

"I'll  try  to  get  you  a  chance,"  said  Gilbert,  demurely. 
"What  can  you  teach?" 

"Well,  I  ain't  very  fresh  in  my  studies,"  said  Alphonso. 
*I  guess  it  wouldn't  be  of  any  use.  Ain't  you  going  to 
Work  in  the  daytime?" 

"I  shall  get  back  into  the  broker's  office,  if  I  can." 

"Then  you  will  have  quite  an  income  for  a  boy,  Gil- 
bert," said  Ingalls. 

"Don't  you  think  you  could  take  me  up  and  introduce 
ine  to  the  Vivians  some  evening  ?"  insinuated  Alphonso. 

"I  don't  think  I  could,  Mr.  Jones." 

"Oh !  it's  of  no  consequence,"  said  Alphonso,  with  ap- 
parent indifference.  "I  have  any  quantity  of  high-toned 
friends  who  move  in  the  first  circles.  Some  of  them 
know  the  Vivians,  and  that's  why  I  wanted  to  be  in- 
troduced." 

"I  wonder  if  that  fellow  expects  to  be  believed,"  said 
Jtfr.  Ingalls,  after  Alphonso  had  retired. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

THE     NEW     PROFESSOR 

Fred  Vivian  had  not  been  informed  of  the  plan  whicH 
his  father  had  in  view  for  him.  Mr.  Vivian,  however,  felt 
confident  that  it  would  be  agreeable  to  his  son,  and  did 
not  wish  to  speak  of  it  until  he  had  ascertained  Gilbert's 
willingness. 

At  dinner,  after  the  interview  described  in  the  last 
chapter,  Mr.  Vivian,  for  the  first  time,  mentioned  the 
matter. 

"What  lessons  have  you  to-night,  Fred?"  he  asked. 

"I  have  my  Latin,  and  some  hard  sums  in  reduction.* 

"How  are  you  getting  on  in  Latin?" 

"I  wish  you  would  let  me  give  it  up,  father,"  said  Fred, 
earnestly.  "I  believe  it  was  only  got  up  to  trouble  school- 
boys." 

"I  suppose,"  said  his  father,  smiling,  "you  think  Csesar, 
Virgil  and  Cicero  only  wrote  with  the  same  purpose." 

"Confound  them !  Why  couldn't  they  write  in  Eng- 
lish?"  said  Fred,  petulantly. 

All  at  the  table  laughed,  and  finally  Fred  himself 
joined  in. 

"I  suspect  the  Roman  boys  would  have  found  as  much 
trouble  with  English  as  you  find  with  Latin,"  said  Mr. 
Vivian.     "As  a  fact,  there  was  no  such  language  in  ex- 
istence then  as  our  modern  English  tongue." 
-  "I  wish  La  an  were  as  easy  as  English,"  said  Fred. 


202  The  New  Professor. 

"No  doubt  it  is.  Foreigners  find  our  language  very 
difficult." 

"Difficult !     I  don't  see  what  there  is  difficult  about  it." 

"Because  it  is  your  native  language.  Roman  boys 
would  have  been  equally  surprised  at  anyone  finding  Latin 
difficult." 

"I  wish  I  was  a  Roman  boy,  then.  Laura,  will  you 
help  me  about  my  sums?" 

"I  have  got  my  own  lessons  to  prepare,  Fred." 

"Will  you  help  me,  father?" 

"I  like  to  have  my  evenings  to  myself,  Fred.  How- 
ever, don't  look  disappointed.  You  shall  have  help." 

"Who  will  help  me?     Laura  says  she  can't." 

"I  have  engaged  a  professor  to  come  here  every  evening 
and  assist  you  about  your  lessons." 

"A  professor !"  exclaimed  Fred,  uneasily.  "That  will 
be  as  bad  as  being  at  an  evening  school.  I  would  rather 
get  along  by  myself." 

"Just  now  you  wanted  help,"  said  his  father. 

"I  don't  want  a  professor.  He  will  make  me  work  too 
hard." 

"I  think  you  will  like  him,"  said  Mr.  Vivian. 

"When  is  he  coming?" 

"This  evening.     He  will  be  here  about  eight  o'clock." 

"Isn't  this  a  new  plan?"  asked  Mrs.  Vivian. 

"Don't  you  approve  of  it,  my  dear?"  asked  her  hus- 
band. 

"I  thought  his  presence  might  be  a  restraint  upon  us. 
unless,  indeed,  Fred  goes  upstairs  with  him." 


The  New  Professor.  203 

"No,  let  me  stay  here,"  urged  Fred.  "I  don't  want  to 
go  off  with  that  old  man." 

"How  do  you  know  he  is  an  old  man?"  inquired  his 
father,  smiling. 

"I  suppose  he  is." 

"He  can't  be  considered  so.  In  fact,  he  is  rather 
young." 

"It's  all  the  same,"  said  Fred,  discontentedly.  "I  sup- 
pose he  is  as  stiff  as  a  poker." 

"He  did  not  impress  me  so.  With  his  help  you  will 
get  through  your  lessons  quickly ;  and  then  you  can  have 
the  rest  of  the  evening  to  yourself." 

"What  is  his  name?"  asked  Laura. 

"I  will  see  if  I  can  find  his  card,"  said  Mr.  Vivian,  pre- 
tending to  search  his  pockets  in  vain.  "Never  mind,  I 
will  ask  him  when  he  comes." 

"You  did  not  tell  me  you  thought  of  making  this  ar- 
rangement for  Fred,"  said  Mrs.  Vivian. 

"I  see,"  said  her  husband,  smiling,  "that  you  are  a  little 
in  doubt  as  to  its  expediency.  If,  at  the  end  of  "a  week, 
it  appears  unsatisfactory,  I  will  dismiss  the  professor." 

Fred  was  relieved  by  this  promise.  He  had  already 
formed  in  his  own  mind  an  image  of  the  expected  teacher 
— a  tall,  thin  man,  in  a  rusty  black  suit,  wearing  a  pair  of 
iron-bowed  spectacles.  He  had  seen  the  tutor  of  a  school- 
mate of  his  who  answered  this  description,  and  hastily 
adopted  the  conclusion  that  most  visiting  tutors  were  like 
him. 

At  ten  minutes  of  eight  Gilbert  Greyson  was  an- 
nounced. 


204  The  New  Professor. 

"Oh,  Gilbert,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you,"  said  fcred; 
"though  I'm  afraid  I  can't  be  with  you  much  this  even- 
ing." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Gilbert. 

"Father  has  engaged  a  professor  to  assist  me  in  my 
studies;  when  you  came  in  I  thought  at  first  it  was  he." 

Gilbert  read  the  joke  in  Mr.  Vivian's  smiling  face,  and 
determined  to  keep  it  up. 

"What  sort  of  a  teacher  is  he  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  don't  know.  I  suppose  he's  an  old  fogy  in  spec- 
tacles." 

"Don't  you  think  you  shall  like  him  ?" 

"Father  says  if  I  don't  he'll  send  him  off  at  the  end  of 
the  week." 

Again  Gilbert  smiled,  and  Mr.  Vivian  laughed  out- 
right. 

"I  don't  see  what  you  two  are  laughing  about,"  said 
Fred. 

"It's  a  good  joke,  Gilbert,  isn't  it?"  said  the  merchant 

"Yes,  sir." 

"I  don't  see  any  joke,"  said  Fred. 

"Nor  I,"  said  Laura. 

"Perhaps  the  professor  may  be  willing  to  help  you,  il 
you  require  it,  Laura,"  suggested  her  father. 

"If  he  is  such  a  man  as  Fred  expects,"  said  Laura,  "I 
would  rather  get  along  by  myself." 

"It  is  hardly  fair  to  take  a  prejudice  against  *  Derson 
before  you  see  him,  Laura." 


The  New  Professor.  205 

"For  my  own  part,  I  was  favorably  impressed  by  what 
I  saw  of  him." 

"What  does  he  look  like  ?    Is  he  tall  ?" 

"No.': 

"Is  he  old?" 

"No;  quite  young." 

"Has  he  whiskers?" 

"I  didn't  see  any." 

"Is  he  good-looking?" 

"That  is  rather  a  delicate  question,  eh,  Gilbert?" 

"Yes,  sir.     I  will  answer  it  for  you.     He  is  not." 

"What— do  you  know  him,  Gilbert?"  asked  Fred. 

"He  ought  to,"  said  Mr.  Vivian.  "He  has  seen  him  in 
his  looking-glass  every  morning  for  sixteen  years.  There, 
the  secret  is  out.  Fred,  let  me  formally  introduce  you 
to  Prof.  Gilbert — the  teacher  I  have  engaged  for  you." 

"Are  you  really  to  be  my  teacher,  Gilbert  ?"  asked  Fred, 
delighted. 

"If  you  conclude  to  keep  me,"  said  our  hero.  "You 
may  decide  to  send  me  adrift  at  the  end  of  the  week." 

"I  said  that  when  I  thought  it  was  somebody  else,"  said 
Fred.  "Do  you  think  you  can  show  me  how  to  do  sums 
in  reduction?" 

"I  think  I  can,"  said  Gilbert,  smiling. 

"I  will  get  you  to  help  me  in  interest,  Gilbert,"  said 
Laura. 

"I  thought  you  didn't  want  any  help  from  your  broth- 
er's teacher,"  said  Mr.  Vivian. 

"I  -didn't  know  who  it  was  to  be  then,  papa,  I'm  glad 
you  have  engaged  Gilbert" 


2o6  The  New  Professor. 

"There  is  one  more  objection  to  you,  Gilbert,"  said 
Mr.  Vivian,  seriously ;  "my  wife  thinks  your  presence  may 
be  a  restraint  upon  us.  She  thinks  you  had  better  retire 
with  Fred  to  some  other  part  of  the  house." 

"You  have  got  the  joke  upon  me,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Viv- 
ian. "I,  too,  was  quite  in  the  dark  as  to  whom  you  had 
engaged.  We  don't  look  upon  Gilbert  in  the  light  of  a 
stranger,  but  rather  as  one  of  the  family." 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  Vivian,"  said  our  hero,  gratefully. 

"Then  it  appears,  Gilbert,  that  you  will  be  allowed  to 
practice  your  vocation  here.  I  would  suggest  that  a  pair 

f  spectacles  would  make  your  appearance  more  impress- 

e  and  dignified." 

"I  like  you  best  as  you  are,  Gilbert,"  said  Fred,  putting 
his  arm  around  the  neck  of  his  new  tutor. 

"And  I,  too,"  said  Laura. 

"Then  I  won't  go  to  the  expense  of  spectacles,"  said 
Gilbert.  "Shall  we  begin  now,  Fred?" 

Fred  brought  his  arithmetic  and  slate,  and  Gilbert  ex- 
plained the  sums  in  a  familiar  manner,  making  Fred  do 
them  himself. 

"I  understand  them  first-rate,  now,"  said  Fred,  in  a 
tone  of  satisfaction.  "You're  a  bully  teacher,  Gilbert." 

"Now,  shall  we  take  the  Latin?"  asked  Gilbert.  "I'll 
try  to  be  a  bully  teacher  in  that,  also." 

By  nine  o'clock  Fred's  task  was  completed,  and  Gilbert 
transferred  his  attention  to  Laura.  Fifteen  minutes  were 
all  she  required.  The  evening  work  being  over,  Gilbert 
played  at  games  with  his  two  pupils  till  ten%  then  rose 
to  go. 


The  New  Professor.  307 

*Tm  so  glad  you're  my  teacher,"  said  Fred.  "Be  sure 
to  come  to-morrow  night." 

"I  am  afraid  you  will  get  tired  of  me  after  a  while,  and 
want  to  discharge  me,"  said  Gilbert,  smiling. 

"Will  you  promise  to  stay  with  us  till  you  arc  dis- 
charged ?" 

"Yes,  Fred." 

"Then  it's  all  right,"  said  Fred,  in  a  tone  of  satisfac- 
tion. 

Mr.  Vivian  found  that  he  had  done  a  very  popular  thing 
in  engaging  Gilbert,  and  was,  in  consequence,  pleased 
himself. 

"Well,  Gilbert,"  said  his  roommate,  on  his  return,  "how; 
did  your  first  lesson  come  off?" 

"With  flattering  success.  I  never  earned  money  more 
pleasantly  in  my  life.  My  old  teacher  would  stare  if 
he  should  learn  that  I  had  set  myself  up  as  a  classical 
professor." 

"Your  fortune  has  changed  wonderfully.  From  a 
newsboy  to  professor  is  rather  a  startling  transformation." 

"My  career  as  a  newsboy  is  ended.  I  abandon  the  field 
to  my  competitors,  and  devote  myself  to  the  dissemination 
of  learning." 

"Alphonso  Jones  thinks  you  are  a  verv  remarkable 
young  man.  He  told  me  so  to-night." 

"I  can  return  the  compliment,"  said  Gilbert,  laughing. 
"If  you  can  change  a  ten-dollar  bill,  Mr.  Ingalls,  I  will 
cay  you  the  six  dollars  advanced  for  my  board." 

"You  needn't  be  in  a  hurry,  Gilbert" 


3o8  The  New  Professor. 

"I  don't  like  to  be  in  debt.     I  can  sleep  better  when  f 

have  paid  up  the  loan." 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  lend  you  again  if  you  need  it." 
"Thank  you,  Mr.  Ingalls ;  but  I  hope  I  shan't  need  it* 
Early  the  next  morning  Mr.  Sands  reached  New  York* 

having  come  through  by  night  from  Washington, 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 
THE  BROKER'S  RETURN. 

About  ten  o'clock,  on  the  morning  of  his  arrival,  Mr. 
Sands  entered  his  office.  He  had  kept  the  run  of  the 
business  through  letters  from  Mr.  Moore,  the  bookkeeper ; 
but  the  latter  had  omitted  to  mention  Gilbert's  dismissal, 
and  the  reinstatement  of  John  as  his  successor. 

Mr.  Sands  was,  therefore,  surprised  to  see  John  in  the 
Office,  with  his  hat  off. 

"Where  is  Gilbert?"  he  asked,  abruptly. 

John  looked  confused. 

"He'll  tell  you,"  he  said,  pointing  to  his  cousin. 

"Have  you  dismissed  Gilbert,  Mr.  Moore?"  demanded 
iMr.  Sands,  abruptly. 

Moore,  in  spite  of  his  bravado,  was  a  little  nervous.  He 
liras  apprehensive  that  he  would  not  be  able  to  convince 
Mr.  Sands  of  Gilbert's  guilt. 

"I  was  obliged  to  discharge  him,  I  am  sorry  to  say,"  he 
answered. 

"Why  did  you  discharge  him,  may  I  inquire  ?"  persisted 
the  broker, 

Simon  Moore,  himself  of  a  haughty  disposition,  flushed 
at  the  imperative  tone  which  his  employer  used.  It  chafed 
him  especially  to  be  so  addressed  in  the  presence  of  his 
young  cousin. 

"I  don't  suppose  you  wish  to  have  a  thief  in  your  em- 
ploy," he  answered,  hastily, 


2io  The  Broker's  Return. 

"Do  you  charge  Gilbert  Grey  son  with  being  a  thief?" 

"I  do,  sir." 

"Let  me  know  the  particulars." 

Simon  Moore  rehearsed  the  story,  already  familiar  to 
the  reader,  of  the  ten-dollar  bill  found  in  the  pocket  of 
Gilbert's  overcoat. 

"Did  he  admit  his  guilt?"  asked  the  broker. 

"Oh!  no;  he  brazened  it  out;  but  the  proofs  were  over* 
whelming." 

"Who  found  the  bill  in  Gilbert's  pocket?" 

"John." 

"Oh!"  ejaculated  the  broker,  significantly. 

Simon    Moore's   face   flushed   again. 

"Let  me  explain,"  he  said. 

"By  all  means ;  that  is  what  I  want." 

"Only  John,  who  had  come  in  to  make  a  call  on  me,  and 
Gilbert  had  been  here.  One  or  the  other  must  have 
been  the  thief.  I,  therefore,  asked  Gilbert  to  search  John, 
and  John  to  search  Gilbert.  It  seemed  to  me  fair.  The 
result  showed  who  was  the  thief." 

"Upon  this,  you  discharged  Gilbert  and  engaged  John." 

"Yes,  sir.  I  needed  a  boy,  and  did  not  dare  to  employ 
Gilbert  lest  there  should  be  further  and  more  serious 
losses.  John  being  present,  and  understanding  the  duties, 
I  engaged  him." 

"John  is  your  cousin,  is  he  not,  Mr.  Moore  ?"  asked  Mr. 
Sands,  quietly. 

"Yes,  sir."  said  the  bookkeeper,  looking  slightly  en> 
fcarrassed. 


The  Broker's  Return.  ail 

"It  was  very  fortunate  for  him  that  he  happened  to  be 
at  the  office  on  that  particular  morning." 

Here  John  thought  it  time  to  introduce  himself  into  the 
conversation. 

"That's  what  cousin  Simon  told  me,"  he  said. 

"If  John  had  not  been  here,  I  should  have  been  obliged 
to  advertise  for  a  boy,"  said  the  bookkeeper,  recovering 
his  confidence. 

"Have  you  seen  Gilbert  since  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Sands. 

"I  have,"  said  John,  grinning. 

"Where  did  you  see  him?  Do  you  know  if  he  has 
another  situation?" 

"Oh!  yes,"  said  John,  chuckling;  "he's  set  up  on  his 
own  account/' 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"T'other  morning  I  saw  him  selling  papers  near  the 
City  Hall  Park." 

"Humph!" 

Mr.  Sands  said  no  more,  but  set  about  examining  the 
books.  Presently  he  put  on  his  hat  and  went  out. 

"What  do  you  think  he's  going  to  do,  Cousin  Simon?" 
asked  John,  anxiously. 

"I  guess  the  storm's  blown  over." 

"He  didn't  seem  to  like  it  that  I  was  here." 

"He  don't  seem  to  have  a  very  high  opinion  of  you ;  and 
I  don't  blame  him,"  said  the  bookkeeper,  unable  to  restrain 
his  sarcasm,  although  John  was  his  cousin. 

"Seems  to  me  you're  pretty  hard  on  me,"  said  John,  ag- 
grieved. "Do  you  think  he'll  let  me  stay?" 

"I  think  he  will,  if  you  do  your  <Jn.tf  *' 


212  The  Broker's  Return. 

"Oh,  111  do  that  fast  enough,"  said  John,  looking  re- 
lieved. 

"I  advise  you  not  to  let  Mr.  Sands  see  you  with  a 
Cigarette  in  your  mouth." 

"Who  told  you  I  smoked  cigarettes?     It's  a " 

"You'd  better  not  finish  the  sentence.  I  saw  you  last 
evening  on  the  street  with  one  in  your  mouth." 

"I  guess  I'll  have  to  be  more  careful,"  said  John  to  him- 
self. "Who'd  have  thought  he'd  find  out?" 

"I  was  just  trying  it  to  see  how  it  seemed,"  he  ex- 
plained. 

"Well,  you  know  now,  and  you'd  better  give  them  up," 
said  Simon  Moore.  "Now,  go  to  the  post  office  for  the 
mail." 

On  his  way  home,  in  the  afternoon,  Mr.  Sands  was 
looking  about  for  a  seat  in  the  crowded  car,  when  a  boy 
addressed  him. 

"Take  my  seat,  Mr.  Sands." 

"Gilbert!"  exclaimed  the  broker,  cordially,  extending 
his  hand.  "I  have  been  hoping  to  meet  you." 

"When  did  you  get  home  from  Washington,  sir?" 

"This  morning  early.  I  was  surprised  not  to  find  you 
in  your  accustomed  place  in  my  office." 

"I  suppose  Mr.  Moore  explained  my  absence?"  said 
Gilbert. 

"Yes;  but  I  should  prefer  to  hear  your  explanation. 
I  should  have  more  faith  in  its  truth." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Gilbert,  gratefully. 

"It  is  hardly  a  matter  to  talk  about  in  public. 
you  any  c  ngagement  this  afternoon  ?" 


The  Broker's  Return^  '913 

"No,  sir." 

"Then  come  around  to  my  house  and  take  dinner." 

"What  will  Mr.  Moore  say?"  asked  Gilbert,  smiling. 

"We  will  see  to-morrow.     Will  you  come?" 

"With  great  pleasure,  Mr.  Sands." 

Mr.  Sands  lived  in  a  pleasant  house  uptown.  He  had 
a  wife  but  no  children.  His  wife  greeted  Gilbert  pleas- 
antly. 

"I  have  heard  my  husband  speak  of  you,"  she  said. 

Before  dinner  Gilbert  got  a  chance  to  explain  matters 
to  Mr.  Sands. 

"I  believe  you,"  said  the  broker,  emphatically. 

"Don't  rely  too  much  upon  my  word,  sir,"  said  Gilbert 
"I  want  you  to-  be  thoroughly  convinced  of  my  inno- 
cence." 

"I  am." 

"Still,  sir,  I  should  like  to  bring  a  street  boy — a  boot- 
black— to  confirm  my  story.  He  saw  John  put  the  bill 
into  my  overcoat  pocket,  when  I  was  out  on  an  errand." 

"That  is  important  testimony.  I  trust  your  word  im- 
plicitly; but  it  may  be  as  well  to  bring  him  round  to  the 
office,  in  order  to  confound  those  who  have  got  up  this 
wicked  plot  against  you." 

"He  is  only  a  bootblack,"  said  Gilbert ;  "but  I  think  he 
is  trustworthy." 

"I  have  reasons  with  which  you  are  not  acquainted  for 
believing  him  and  you,"  said  the  broker. 

Gilbert  looked  curious,  and  Mr.  Sands  explained. 

"I  was-  present  in  an  oyster  saloon,  one  evening,  before 


214  The  Broker's  Return. 

I  started  for  Washington,  and  overheard  Mr.  Moore  and 
John  expressing  their  intentions  to  get  you  into  trouble 
during  my  absence.  This  was  the  reason  why  I  warned 
you  against  the  bookkeeper." 

"I  remember  it,  sir ;  but  I  did  not  know  your  reasons." 

"Now,  tell  me  how  you  have  got  along,  being  suddenly 
deprived  of  your  income.  John  told  me  he  saw  you  sell- 
ing papers  near  City  Hall  Park  one  day." 

"It  is  true,  sir.  I  could  make  something  that  way,  and 
so  I  tried  it." 

"I  respect  you  the  more  for  it.  Have  you  kept  up  this 
employment  till  now  ?" 

"No,  sir.  Mr.  Vivian  has  engaged  me  as  tutor  for  his 
son,  at  a  salary  of  ten  dollars  per  week." 

"Is  it  possible?  That  is  remarkable,  considering  your 
youth." 

"It  was  to  help  me,  sir,  I  have  no  doubt." 

"You  must  be  a  good  scholar." 

"Not  necessarily;  Fred  is  only  just  beginning  Latin, 
and  it  does  not  require  much  learning  to  teach  him." 

"If  your  time  is  so  profitably  occupied.  I  suppose  I  can't 
induce  you  to  come  back  into  my  office." 

"I  should  be  very  glad  to  do  so,  sir.  I  only  give  my 
evenings  to  Fred  Vivian." 

"Then  you  may  come  back  to-morrow,  at  a  salary  of 
seven  dollars  a  week." 

"You  are  very  kind,  sir.  I  fear  I  shall  not  earn  so 
much." 

"That  is  my  lookout.     Come  to-morrow,  at  quarter-past 


The  Broker's  Return.  215 

nine.  If  I  am  not  there,  say  nothing  to  Mr.  Moore  abou£ 
resuming  your  situation." 

"All  right,  sir." 

After  dinner  Gilbert  went  to  Mr.  Vivian's,  to  meet  his 
pupil. 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 
GILBERT'S  TRIUMPH. 

Shortly  after  the  office  opened  on  the  following  day, 
Simon  Moore  and  John  were  disagreeably  surprised  by 
the  entrance  of  Gilbert.  He  had  found  his  witness,  Tom, 
the  bootblack,  and  requested  him  to  remain  outside,  within 
call. 

"What  do  you  want  here?"  demanded  the  bookkeeper, 
frowning. 

"Has  Mr.  Sands  returned?"  asked  our  hero. 

"No,  he  hasn't,"  replied  Moore,  with  unblushing  false- 
hood. 

"I  think  you  must  be  mistaken,"  said  Gilbert,  com- 
posedly; "for  I  saw  him  getting  on  a  street  car  yester- 
day." 

"Then,  if  you  knew  he  was  at  home,  why  did  you 
ask  me?" 

Gilbert  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  answer  this  ques- 
tion. 

"I  will  stop  and  speak  to  him,"  he  said. 

"No,  you  won't,"  said  Simon  Moore,  roughly.  "I 
know  what  you  want.  You  want  to  make  him  believe 
you  are  innocent." 

"You  are  right,  Mr.  Moore.  I  do  wish  to  convince 
him  of  my  innocence." 

"I  guess  you've  got  cheek,"  put  in  John.  "Didn't  I 
find  the  money  that  was  lost,  in  your  overcoat  pocket  ?" 


Gilbert's  Triumph.  217 

"Yes." 

"That's  enough,  I  should  say,"  said  the  bookkeeper, 
dexterously  availing  himself  of  this  admission.  "You  are 
a  witness,  John,  that  he  has  confessed  the  theft." 

"If  you  twist  what  I  say  in  that  way,"  said  Gilbert,  in- 
dignantly, "there  is  no  use  in  my  saying  anything." 

"That  is  true  enough.  There  is  no  use  in  your  saying 
anything.  Now,  I've  got  something  more  to  say.  You've 
no  business  in  this  office  j  and  the  sooner  you  clear  out  the 
better." 

"Yes,  the  sooner  you  clear  out  the  better,"  chimed  ia 
John.  "You've  come  here  to  get  away  my  place;  but 
you'd  better  give  up  trying.  Mr.  Sands  is  not  such  a  fool 
as  to  believe  you." 

"Are  you  going?"  demanded  the  bookkeeper,  mena- 
cingly. "John,  put  him  out." 

John  advanced  cautiously  toward  our  hero,  who  smiled 
tmterrified. 

"Come,  go  out ! — do  you  hear  ?"  he  said. 

"I  won't  put  you  to  the  trouble  of  putting  me  out,"  said 
Gilbert,  good-naturedly.  "I'll  step  out,  for  the  present." 

"And  go  away  from  here — do  you  hear?  Don't  you 
hang  around  the  office." 

Gilbert,  however,  did  not  see  fit  to  obey  this  last  order. 
He  waited  in  the  neighborhood  for  Mr.  Sands  to  arrive. 

"He  means  to  make  trouble,  Cousin  Simon,"  said  Johflt 
uneasily. 

"He  would  like  to,  no  doubt,"  responded  the  book- 
keeper; "but  it  would  be  very  strange  if  Mr.  Sands*be- 
lieved  him  against  us." 


2i8  Gilbert's  Triumph. 

"Well,  I  hope  it'll  all  turn  out  right,"  said  John;  "but 
he's  got  a  lot  of  cheek — that  boy  has.  I  wish  you'd  had 
him  locked  up." 

"It  might  have  been  the  best  plan;  but  I  think  we  can 
carry  things  through.  Don't  you  put  in  your  oar,  or  you 
may  spoil  the  whole  thing.  Leave  it  to  me." 

"All  right,  Cousin  Simon." 

At  the  corner  of  Wall  and  New  Streets  Gilbert  met 
Mr.  Sands,  who  had  come  downtown  in  a  Broadway  stage. 

"I  see  you  are  on  hand,"  said  the  broker.  "Have  you 
been  to  the  office  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"What  sort  of  a  reception  did  you  get  from  Mr. 
Moore?" 

"He  ordered  me  out." 

The  broker  smiled. 

"Perhaps  it  may  be  my  turn  to  order  out,'*  he  said. 
"Come  back  with  me." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

Simon  Moore  was  not  overpleased  when  he  saw  Gilbert 
entering  the  office  with  his  employer,  but  he  said  nothing. 
He  waited  to  see  how  the  land  lay. 

"Mr.  Moore,"  said  the  broker,  "I  met  Gilbert  outside, 
and  have  brought  him  in  to  talk  over  the  charge  which 
you  bring  against  him." 

"He  has  been  here  already,"  said  Moore,  coldly,  "and 
1  ordered  him  out." 

"It  appears  ito  me  that  this  is  rather  summary  treat- 
ment." 

"T  think  I  have  treated  him  very  induJeently.    I  might 


Gilbert's  Triumph.  219 

have  had  him  arrested  for  theft,  but  I  didn't  want  to  be 
too  hard  upon  him." 

"You  seem  to  take  it  for  granted  that  he  is  guilty." 

"He  must  be.  He  will  himself  admit  that  the  missing 
bill  was  found  in  his  overcoat  pocket;  ask  him,  if  you 
like,  sir." 

Mr.   Sands  turned  to  Gilbert. 

"It  is  true,"  he  said. 

"That  is  all  that  need  be  said,"  said  the  bookkeeper, 
shrugging  his  shoulders. 

"It  does  not  necessarily  follow  that  he  put  the  bill  in 
himself,"  remarked  Mr.  Sands. 

"Who  else  could  have  done  it?"  demanded  Moore, 
triumphantly. 

"I  will  answer  that  question,"  said  Gilbert.  "John  put 
the  money  in  my  pocket,  in  order  to  get  me  into  a 
scrape." 

"Do  you  hear  that,  Cousin  Simon?"  exclaimed  John, 
with  virtuous  indignation.  "I  didn't  think  Gilbert  could 
be  so  wicked  as  to  say  such  things." 

"I  expected  it,"  said  Moore,  regarding  Gilbert  ma- 
liciously. "A  boy  that  will  steal  will  lie,  also.  Of  course,, 
he  only  says  it  to  screen  himself." 

Gilbert  listened  to  this  outbreak  very  composedly.  He 
knew  that  his  employer  was  on  his  side,  and  did  not  think 
it  necessary  to  contradict  it. 

"Have  you  any  proof  of  your  statement,  Gilbert?"  asked 
Mr.  Sands. 

"Of  course  he  hasn't,"  said  Moore,  contemptuously.  "It 


220  Gilbert's  Triumph. 

rests  upon  his  word ;  and  that  is  worth  nothing.     Ask  him 
if  he  saw  John  put  the  money  in  his  pocket." 

•  "No,  I  did  not,"  answered  Gilbert,  without  waiting  for 
Mr.  Sands  to  put  the  question. 

"I  thought  not,"  said  Moore,  triumphantly.  "You  only 
suspected  it." 

"Somebody  saw  it  done,"  said  Gilbert.  "Shall  I  call 
him  ?" 

The  question  was  addressed  to  Mr.  Sands,  who  nodded 
his  head. 

Gilbert  went  to  the  door  and  called  Tom. 

Tom,  the  bootblack,  shuffled  in,  with  his  box  strapped  to 
his  back. 

"Tom,"  said  Gilbert,  "did  you,  one  day,  see  John—- 
that boy  there — putting  a  bill  in  my  coat  pocket?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Tom ;  "shure  I  did ;  but  I  thought  it 
was  his  own,  and  it  was  no  harm,  till  you  told  me  hoM85 
you'd  lost  your  place." 

Mr.  Sands  put  two  or  three  questions,  which  Tom  an- 
swered in  a  straightforward  manner.  Then  he  turned  to 
the  bookkeeper. 

"What  do  you  say  to  this,  Mr.  Moore?"  he  asked. 

"I  say  that  it  is  all  a  He,"  returned  the  bookkeeper,  an- 
grily. "How  much  are  you  paid  for  lying?"  he  de- 
manded, sharply,  of  the  bootblack. 

"Not  a  cent."  said  Tom,  indignantly ;  "and  it  isn't  a  lie, 
either,  you  spalpeen !  You  knew  all  about  it,  too.  I  saw 
you  lookin'  at  him  when  he  did  it." 

"Td  like  to  thrash  you  within  an  inch  of  your  life,  vou 


Gilbert's  Triumph.  221 

impudent,  young  blackguard !"  said  Simon  Moore,  furi- 
ously. 

"You'd  better  not  thry  it,"  said  Tom,  boldly. 

"I  hope,  Mr.  Sands,"  said  Moore,  turning  to  the  broker, 
"that  you  are  not  going  to  believe  this  young  ragamuffin 
against  me.  It  is  a  pretty  state  of  things,  if  my  word  is 
to  be  disputed  by  such  as  he." 

"Mr.  Moore,"  said  the  broker,  gravely,  "I  regret  to  say 
that,  in  this  instance,  I  am  forced  to  believe  him  rather 
than  you.  Wait  a  moment" — seeing  that  Moore  was  go- 
ing to  interrupt  him — "it  is  only  fair  that  I  should  give 
you  my  reason.  Possibly  you  will  remember  one  evening 
when,  at  an  oyster  saloon,  you  and  John  concerted  this 
very  plot  against  Gilbert.  I  was  in  the  next  stall,  and 
overheard  all  you  both  said.  I  was  not,  therefore,  sur- 
prised to  learn,  upon  my  return,  under  what  circum- 
stances Gilbert  had  been  discharged." 

Simon  Moore  and  John  looked  at  each  other  in  silent 
dismay.  Both  remembered  well  the  conversation  al- 
luded to. 

"If  I  am  the  object  of  such  suspicion,"  blustered  Moore, 
at  length,  "I  don't  think  I  had  better  remain  in  your 
employ." 

"I  approve  your  decision,'1  said  the  broker,  gravely. 

"I  will  leave  at  once,  if  you  say  so." 

Just  then  a  young  man  entered  the  office. 

"You  are  at  liberty  to  do  so,"  said  Mr.  Sands.  "I  have 
already  engaged  this  gentleman  as  your  successor." 

"I -guess  I'll  go,  too,"  said  John. 

"You  may.     Gilbert,  you  will  resume  your  old  place." 


222  Gilbert's  Triumph. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  paint  the  anger  and  mortifica- 
tion upon  the  faces  of  the  two  cousins  as  they  left  the 
office. 

"This  comes  from  trying  to  help  you,  you  young  loafer," 
said  Moore,  savagely,  turning  upon  John.  "But  for  yott 
I  should  have  kept  my  place." 

"I'm  sure  I  ain't  to  blame,"  said  John,  whining. 

"You  are  wholly  to  blame.  I  shall  thrash  you  some 
day." 

John  thought  this  rather  hard,  since  the  plot  was  of  his 
cousin's  contriving.  I  may  remark  here  that  months 
passed  before  Simon  Moore  obtained  another 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

MR.     BRIGGS     RETURNS     FROM     EUROPE. 

So  Gilbert  was  reinstated  in  his  old  position,  at  an  ad- 
vanced salary.  His  income  was  now  seventeen  dollars  a 
week — an  amount  which  enabled  him  to  live  very  com- 
fortably, and  even  to  lay  aside  a  few  dollars  every  week. 
Of  course,  this  required  the  exercise  of  economy;  but  Gil- 
bert felt  it  to  be  his  duty  to  be  prudent,  and  prepare  for  a 
time  when  his  income  might  be  less. 

He  found  the  new  bookkeeper  a  very  different  man 
from  Mr.  Moore.  He  was  quite  as  efficient,  and  far 
more  agreeable.  From  the  first  he  regarded  Gilbert  with 
friendly  interest,  and  treated  him  as  a  friend. 

For  some  time  Gilbert  had  seen  nothing  of  Randolph 
Briggs.  The  latter  occasionally  condescended  to  wonder 
how  that  beggar,  Greyson,  was  getting  along,  but  did  not 
feel  any  very  deep  anxiety  on  his  account.  One  day,  how- 
ever, Randolph  ventured  downtown,  and  had  the  curiosity 
to  enter  Mr.  Sands'  office. 

The  bookkeeper  chanced  to  be  out,  and  Gilbert  was  io 
charge. 

Randolph  stared  in  astonishment  at  our  hero> 

"How  do  you  happen  to  be  here  ?"  he  asked,  abruptly 

"Why  shouldn't  I  be  here?"  returned  Gilbert,  plea*- 
antly.  "This  is  my  place  of  business." 

"But,  I  say,  I  thought  you  were  »«nt  off." 

"So' I  was." 


224     Mr.  Briggs  Returns  From  Burope. 

"How  did  you  get  back?1" 

"Mr.  Sands  took  me  back,  and  discharged  the  book- 
keeper." 

"Whew !"  exclaimed  Randolph.  "He  must  think  a 
good  deal  of  you." 

"He  believed  the  charge  to  be  false,  and  that  it  was  a 
conspiracy  against  me." 

Randolph  did  not  know  what  to  think.  He  had  pre- 
dicted that  Gilbert  would  never  get  back ;  and  it  is  not 
pleasant  to  be  mistaken  in  one's  predictions. 

"Do  you  board  at  the  same  place?"  he  asked,  after  a 
while. 

"Yes." 

"Don't  you  find  it  hard  to  pay  your  board?" 

Gilbert  smiled.  The  question  was  an  impertinent  one  J 
but  he  felt  amused  rather  than  offended. 

"I  have  paid  regularly  so  far,"  he  said. 

"How  did  you  do  when  you  were  out  of  a  place?" 

"I  lived  on  my  salary  as  teacher." 

Randolph  opened  wide  his  eyes  in  astonishment. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  teach  in  the  evening,"  explained  our  hero. 

"You  don't  say  so!     Why,  you  are  only  a  boy{n 

"But  I  know  enough  to  teach  a  younger  boy." 

"Who  are  you  teaching?" 

"Fred  Vivian." 

"What,  Laura's  brother?" 

"The  same." 

"He  don't  come  to  your  room,  does  he?" 

"No,  I  go  there  five  evenings  in  the  week" 


Mr.  Briggs  Returns  From  Europe.      225 

"Do  you  get  much  pay  ?" 

"I  don't  think  you  can  expect  me  to  answer  that  ques- 
tion, Randolph." 

"Why,  ain't  you  willing  to  tell?" 

"I'll  tell  you  so  much — that  Mr.  Vivian  pays  me  more 
than  Mr.  Sands." 

Randolph  was  silent  for  a  moment.  This  news  was 
Worse  than  the  other.  He  had  an  admiration  for  Laura, 
and  it  was  very  disagreeable  to  think  that  while  he  was 
not  on  visiting  terms  at  her  house,  this  boy,  so  much 
his  social  inferior,  should  be  freely  admitted  to  Laura's 
presence.  Perhaps,  however,  he  only  saw  Fred. 

"Does  Laura  come  into  the  room  when  you  teach  her 
brother?"  he  asked. 

"Certainly.     In  fact,  I  help  her  a  little,  too." 

"It's  the  strangest  thing  I  ever  heard  of,"  muttered 
Randolph. 

"What  is?" 

"That  Mr.  Vivian  should  take  a  poor  office  boy  to  teach 
bis  children." 

"It  is  strange,  but  true,"  assented  Gilbert,  smiling. 

"I  didn't  think  you  were  so  artful." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"If  you  hadn't  been  artful,  you  wouldn't  have  got  so 
thick  with  the  Vivians." 

"I  don't  want  to  get  angry  with  you,  Randolph,  but  I 
don't  like  that  remark.  Suppose  we  change  the  subject. 
What  do  you  hear  from  your  father?" 

"He  r-as  in  Manchester  when  we  last  heard  from 
birr 


226     Mr.  Briggs  Returns  From  Europe. 

"When  do  you  expect  him  home?" 

"In  a  month  or  six  weeks." 

"You  must  be  glad  to  have  him  return." 

"Oh!  I  don't  know,"  said  Randolph.  "I'm  having  a 
pretty  good  time." 

"He  don't  seem  to  have  overmuch  affection  for  his 
lather,"  thought  Gilbert.  And  Gilbert  was  right.  Ran- 
dolph was  very  selfish ;  and  his  chief  regard  was  for  him- 
self. Even  his  mother,  who  idolized  him,  received  but  a 
scant  return.  One  reason  why  Randolph  would  be  sorry 
to  have  his  father  return  was,  that  he  was  now  receiving, 
from  his  mother,  the  six  dollars  a  week  which  properly 
should  have  gone  for  Gilbert's  board;  and  of  this  he 
would  doubtlessly  be  deprived  when  Mr.  Briggs  came 
back. 

"Well,  I  guess  I  can't  stay  any  longer,"  said  Randolph, 
looking  at  his  watch.  "You  haven't  been  up  to  the  house 
lately." 

"No;  my  evenings  are  engaged,  you  know." 

"You'd  better  come  up  and  dine  soon." 

Gilbert  was  rather  surprised  at  this  invitation;  but 
Randolph's  motive  was  soon  apparent. 

"If  you  will,  I  will  go  round  to  the  Vivians  afterward 
with  you." 

"Perhaps,"  suggested  Gilbert,  "when  I  want  to  be 
away  for  an  evening,  you  will  go  in  my  place." 

"No,  I  guess  not.  I  don't  think  I  should  like  to  teach. 
I'd  rather  go  with  you." 

"I  will  think  of  it.  At  any  rate,  I  thank  you  for  the 
invitatioo-" 


Mr.  Briggs  Returns  From  Europe.     227 

Randolph  went  home  at  once.  He  wanted  to  tell  his 
mother  the  news.  It  may  well  be  believed  that  she  was 
not  pleased.  She  would  have  been  glad  to  hear  that  he 
had  been  compelled  to  leave  the  city. 

"It  seems,"  said  she,  sharply,  "that  Mr.  Briggs  is  not 
the  only  fool  in  the,  city." 

"I  wonder  what  father  would  say  to  hear  that,"  chuckled 
Randolph. 

"You  know  what  I  mean.  He  was  perfectly  infatuated 
with  that  Greyson  boy;  and  now  it  appears  that  Mr. 
Vivian  is  just  as  much  of  a  dupe." 

"He's  very  artful,"  suggested  Randolph. 

"That  is  the  very  word  to  use,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs,  ener- 
getically. "It  does  credit  to  your  insight  into  character." 

"I  always  thought  he  was  artful,"  said  Randolph,  much 
flattered. 

"He  never  deceived  me,"  said  his  mother,  emphatically, 
"I  felt  instinctively  that  he  was  a  boy  to  be  shunned.  I 
dare  say  he  would  like  to  ingratiate  himself  with  your 
father  so  far  as  to  induce  him  to  adopt  him,  and  put  him 
on  an  equality  with  you." 

"By  gracious,  I  hope  not!"  exclaimed  Randolph, 
alarmed. 

"He  shall  never  do  it  with  my  consent,"  said  Mrs. 
Briggs,  energetically.  "Fortunately,  you  have  a  mother 
who  is  devoted  to  you,  my  son." 

"Of  course  you  are,  mother.     You  won't  let  father  pay 
Gilbert's  board,  after  he  gets  back,  will  you?" 
.  "Not-if  I  can  help  it" 

r-  -  --«-* 


»28     Mr.  Briggs  Returns  From  Europe. 

"And  you'll  persuade  him  to  give  the  extra  amount  to 
me?" 

"I  will  do  my  best;  but  your  father  is  sometimes  very 
obstinate." 

"It  takes  you  to  manage  him,  mother.  Just  let  him 
know  what  you  think  of  Gilbert." 

"He  knows  that  very  well  already;  but  I  will  do  my 
best  for  you,  Randolph." 

Six  weeks  later  Mr.  Briggs  arrived  in  New  York.  Gil- 
bert saw  his  name  in  a  list  of  the  passengers  by  the  last 
Cunard  steamer,  but  decided  not  to  call  upon  him  im- 
mediately. 

"He  would  think  I  was  applying  to  have  my  board  paid 
again,"  he  said  to  himself;  "and  that  is  no  longer 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

AN    IMPORTANT    REVELATION. 

Gilbert  did  not  lose  sight  of  the  little  flower  girl  whom 
he  had  befriended.  Even  when  his  fortunes  were  at  the 
lowest,  he  never  failed  to  buy  a  bouquet  of  her  daily. 
More  than  this  he  did  not  feel  able  to  do  then.  But  a8 
soon  as  he  obtained  the  position  of  Fred's  teacher,  he  again 
visited  Mr.  Talbot  in  his  poor  lodgings,  and  gave  him 
more  substantial  assistance,  The  sick  man  improved 
steadily  in  health  and  spirits.  It  did  him  great  good  to 
feel  that  he  had  a  friend,  though  that  friend  was  only  a 
boy,  dependent  on  his  earnings  for  support. 

On  the  day  after  he  had  heard  of  Mr.  Briggs'  return 
from  Europe,  Gilbert  made  a  hurried  call  during  his  dinner 
hour. 

"How  are  you  to-day,  Mr.  Talbot?"  he  asked. 

"I  am  better,"  said  the  sick  man.  "I  hope  I  shall  soon 
be  well  enough  to  go  to  work  again." 

"I  think  you  will,"  said  Gilbert,  cheerfully.  "I  must 
try  to  see  what  I  can  find  for  you  to  do,  among  my  busi- 
ness friends." 

"Thank  you;  do  you  know  many  business  men?" 

"No,"  answered  Gilbert.  "I  wonder,"  he  said,  half  to 
himself,  "whether  my  guardian  couldn't  give  you  work." 

"Your  guardian !"  repeated  Mr.  Talbot,  in  surprise. 

"Yes,"  said  Gilbert,  smiling ;  "but  you  mustn't  thi*»k 
because  I  have  a  guardian  that  I  have  any  proper\  ** 


230  An  Important  Revelation. 

"Who  is  your  guardian?" 

"Mr.  Richard  Briggs,  a  New  York  merchant.  He  onty 
got  home  from  Europe  yesterday." 

"Richard  Briggs !"  exclaimed  the  sick  man,  in  evident 
excitement. 

"Yes ;  do  you  know  anything  of  him  ?" 

"His  name  is  very  familiar  to  me.  Tell  me,  are  you 
the  son  of  James  Greyson,  formerly  a  merchant  in  the 
West  Indies?" 

It  was  Gilbert's  turn  to  be  excited. 

"My  father  died  in  the  West  Indies,"  he  answered ;  "but 
I  know  very  little  of  him.  Did  you  know  him,  Mr. 
Talk*?" 

"I  ought  to  know  him.  I  was  his  bookkeeper  up  to  the 
time  of  his  death." 

"Is  it  possible?"  ejaculated  Gilbert.  "How  glad  I  am 
to  meet  you !  I  know  nothing  of  my  father  except  what 
!Mr.  Briggs  has  told  me." 

"One  thing  I  do  not  understand,"  continued  the  sick' 
man.  "You  say  you  have  no  property ;  but  this  cannot  be. 
Your  father  left  seventy-five  thousand  dollars." 

"Seventy-five  thousand  dollars !  Are  you  sure,  Mr. 
Talbot?" 

"No  one  can  be  surer.  I  knew  all  about  your  father's 
business  and  the  extent  of  his  property." 

"Was  this  money  intrusted  to  my  guardian?"  asked 
Gilbert,  quickly. 

"It  was.  Your  father  and  Richard  Briggs  were  school- 
mates, so  I  have  heard  him  say ;  and  he  felt  sufficient  con- 
fidence in  him  to  confide  you  to  his  care-" 


An  Important  Revelation.  231 

it  is  not  a  pleasant  moment  when,  for  the  first  time,  we 
are  led  to  suspect  those  in  whom  we  have  confided;  and 
important  and  welcome  as  the  intelligence  otherwise  was, 
Gilbert  felt  sober  at  the  treachery  of  Mr.  Briggs.  The 
latter,  as  we  have  seen,  had  been  kinder  to  him  than  his 
wife  or  son,  and  Gilbert  had  felt  grateful.  Even  now 
he  could  not  rid  himself  of  a  certain  feeling  of  kindness 
to  his  guardian,  false  as  he  had  been  to  his  trust. 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  this,"  he  said,  gravely. 

"Sorry  to  hear  that  your  father  left  you  a  fortune  ?" 

"I  don't  mean  that.  I  am  sorry  that  my  guardian  has 
been  wicked  enough  to  attempt  to  cheat  me  out  of  it." 

"What  sort  of  a  man  is  Mr.  Briggs?" 

"At  first  I  was  not  prepossessed  in  his  favor;  but  he 
improved  on  acquaintance.  When  his  wife  and  son  spoke 
against  me,  he  always  took  my  pafi.  When  I  was  charged 
with  dishonesty,  he  refused  to  believe  it." 

"I  think  it  quite  possible  that  he  is  a  naturally  kind- 
hearted  man,"  said  the  sick  man;  "but  human  nature  is 
sometimes  inconsistent.  I  think  it  may  have  been  in  a 
moment  of  embarrassment  that  he  appropriated  your  for- 
tune. If  he  has  since  prospered,  it  may  be  possible  for 
you  to  recover  it." 

"Are  you  sure  it  was  as  much  as  seventy-five  thousand 
dollars,  Mr.  Talbot?"  asked  Gilbert,  dazzled,  as  he  well 
might  be,  by  the  magnitude  of  the  sum. 

"I  am  sure  of  it." 

"Can  you  prove  it,  so  that  Mr.  Briggs  will  be  com- 
pelled to  give  it  up  to  me?" 

"Fortunately  I  can.    I  have  in  my  trunk  a  document, 


233  An  Important  Revelation. 

in  your  father's  own  handwriting,  giving  a  schedule  of 
his  property,  in  which  he  expressly  says  that  he  makes  it 
over  in  trust  to  Richard  Briggs,  for  your  use.  Indeed,  it 
must  now  amount  to  more  than  seventy-five  thousand 
dollars;  for  only  a  small  part  of  the  income  has  been  ex- 
pended for  you.  Probably  a  few  hundreds  of  dollars  a 
year  are  all  that  have  been  spent  for  you." 

"I  don't  see  how  Mr.  Briggs  could  make  such  false 
representations,"  said  Gilbert,  thoughtfully0 

"  'Money  is  the  root  of  all  evil,'  my  young  friend.  It 
is  an  old  proverb,  and,  unfortunately,  a  true  one." 

"I  have  noticed  one  thing,"  continued  our  hero.  "When 
I  thanked  Mr.  Briggs  for  paying  my  board,  as  I  supposed, 
out  of  his  own  pocket,  he  always  seemed  uncomfortable 
and  embarrassed." 

"That  shows  he  is  not  wholly  without  shame." 

"It  is  about  time  for  me  to  be  going  back  to  the  office, 
Mr.  Talbot ;  but  before  I  go,  I  want  to  ask  your  advice  on 
one  point.  How  soon  shall  I  speak  to  Mr.  Briggs  on  this 
subject?" 

"Whenever  you  have  an  opportunity." 

"Of  course,  I  must  refer  to  you  as  my  informant." 

"By  all  means,"  said  the  sick  man,  promptly.  "It  will 
He  a  great  satisfaction  to  me  if,  through  my  means,  you 
succeed  in  obtaining  your  rights." 

For  the  rest  of  the  day  and  through  the  evening  Gil- 
bert's mind  was  occupied  with  the  important  intelligence 
he  had  learned.  He  did  not  make  a  confidant  of  anyone, 
feeling  that  it  was  not  yet  time. 

Mr.  Ingalls,  his  roommate,  saw  that  to  was  thinking 


An  Important  Revelation.  233 

busily  about  something,  but  did  not  make  any  m^Jries. 
He  knew  that  Gilbert  would  let  him  know  when  he  got 
ready.  Alphonso  Jones  was  not  so  forbearing. 

"By  Jove !  Greyson,  I  believe  you  are  in  love,"  he  said, 
abruptly. 

"What  makes  you  think  so,  Mr.  Jones  ?" 

"You've  been  sitting  with  your  eyes  fixed  on  the  carpet 
for  five  minutes  without  speaking  a  word." 

"Your  opinion  about  love  is  worth  something,  Mr. 
Jones,"  said  Gilbert,  smiling.  "You  know  how  it  is  your- 
self. Didn't  I  see  you  walking  with  a  fair  widow  last 
evening  ?" 

"Who  do  you  mean?"  asked  Alphonso,  smiling. 

"Mrs.  Kinney,  of  course." 

"I  only  happened  to  meet  her  going  to  a  concert  with 
Mr.  Pond,"  exclaimed  Alphonso.  "He  was  called  away 
a  moment,  and  left  her  in  my  care." 

"He  was  very  imprudent,"  said  Mr.  Ingalls.  "You 
know,  Jones,  you're  a  regular  lady-killer.  I  really  hope 
you  won't  try  any  of  your  fascinations  on  the  widow." 

Mr.  Jones  simpered,  and  was  evidently  pleased.  It 
was  his  private  Opinion  that  he  was  unusually  fascinating, 
and  this  public  acknowledgment  of  it  was  gratifying. 

"You  will  have  your  joke,  Mr.  Ingalls,"  he  said.  "I 
have  a  high  respect  for  Mrs.  Kinney ;  but,  really,  there  is 
nothing  in  it,  I  do  assure  you." 

"Time  will  show,"  said  Mr.  Ingalls,  nodding  his  head 
in  an  oracular  way.  "But  don't  be  precipitate,  Mr. 
Jones.  Remember  the  Countess  de  Montmorency,  who 
may  yetrbe  your  bride." 


234  An  Important  Revelation. 

"I  have  no  hopes  in  that  quarter,"  said  Alphonso,  who 
had  ascertained  that  the  count  had  been  reduced  by  family 
misfortunes  to  accept  a  position  in  a  barber's  shop.  "Good- 
evening,  gents." 

When  Alphonso  had  retired,  Gilbert  said:  "I  have 
something  on  my  mind,  Mr.  Ingalls,  though  not  what  Mr. 
Jones  supposed.  I  hope  soon  to  let  you  know  what  it  is." 

"Whenever  you  are  ready,  Gilbert.  I  am  not  curious; 
but  shall  be  interested  in  anything  that  concerns  you.  It 
isn't  anything  unpleasant,  I  hope." 

"It  may  be  greatly  to  my  advantage." 

"If  that  is  the  case,  I  can  wait  cheerfully." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIIL 

GILBERT'S   SHIP  COMES   IN. 

'  It  may  well  be  supposed  that  Gilbert  wished,  as  soon 
as  possible,  to  question  his  guardian  on  a  subject  having 
such  an  important  bearing  upon  his  future  career.  It  oc- 
curred to  him  that  it  might  be  well  to  consult  a  lawyer 
first;  but  he  finally  decided  not  to  do  so.  Personally, 
Mr.  Briggs  had  treated  him  kindly,  and  he  did  not  wish, 
unless  it  should  prove  absolutely  necessary,  to  assume  a 
position  antagonistic  to  him. 

Gilbert  reached  his  guardian's  house  about  eight  o'clock 
in  the  evening.  He  had  received  a  note  from  Fred  Vivian 
stating  that  he  was  going  to  the  theater,  and  would  not 
require  a  lesson  that  evening.  This  gave  him  abundant 
time  for  the  interview. 

Mrs.  Briggs  and  Randolph  had  gone  to  make  a  call,  and 
Gilbert  found  Mr.  Briggs  alone.  In  dressing  gown  and 
slippers,  he  was  conning  the  evening  papers  when  Gilbert 
was  announced. 

"Good-evening,  Gilbert,"  said  Mr.  Briggs,  cordially. 
"I  am  glad  to  see  you." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Gilbert,  gravely. 

"I  was  feeling  a  little  lonely.  Mrs.  Briggs  and  Ran- 
dolph have  gone  out  to  make  a  call.  How  have  you  got 
on  since  I  went  away?" 

"I  am  doing  well  now,  sir ;  but  at  one  time  my  prospects 
looked  dark" 


236  Gilbert's  Ship  Comes  In. 

"How  is  that?"  asked  Mr.  Briggs,  surprised.  "1 
thought  I  left  you  well  provided  for." 

It  was  Gilbert's  turn  to  look  surprised. 

"Didn't  Randolph  tell  you  about  my  losing  my  situa- 
tion?" he  asked. 

"Not  a  word.     How  came  you  to  lose  it?" 
-  Gilbert  told  the  story,  already  familiar  to  the  reader. 
He  also  told  about  his  regaining  it. 

"That  must  have  been  disagreeable ;  and,  of  course,  yott 
felt  the  loss  of  income.  But  your  board  was  at  least  pro- 
vided for.  You  received  money  for  that  from  ray 
office?" 

"No,  sir;  not  a  cent." 

"Why  not?     I  left  directions  to  that  effect." 

Gilbert's  cheek  flushed. 

"I  called  on  Mrs.  Briggs,  to  inquire  about  it,"  he  said, 
reluctantly;  "but  she  chose  to  treat  me  as  a  beggar,  and 
I  declined  to  receive  anything." 

Mr.  Briggs  looked  annoyed. 

"I  am  afraid,"  he  said,  desirous  of  excusing  his  wife, 
"that  you  are  too  sensitive,  Gilbert.  Mrs.  Briggs  is  a 
little  unfortunate  in  her  manner,  and  gave  you  a  wrong 
impression.  However,  you  shall  not  suffer  for  it.  Come 
round  to  the  office  to-morrow,  and  I  will  give  you  a  sum 
equal  to  what  you  would  have  had  if  I  had  been  at  home.* 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Gilbert ;  but  still  he  looked  grave. 

"Does  not  that  satisfy  you  ?"  asked  Mr.  Briggs,  a  little 
annoyed. 

Gilbert  felt  that  the  time  had  come  for  his  q»*8ti<». 


Gilbert's  Ship  Comes  In.  237 

"I  came  here  to-night,  Mr.  Briggs,"  he  commenced,  "to 
•ek  you  a  question." 

"Ask  it,  of  course,"  said  the  merchant,  quite  unpre- 
pared for  what  was  coming. 

Gilbert  fixed  his  clear,  penetrating  eyes  on  his  guard- 
ian's face. 

"My  father  left  you  some  money  in  trust  for  me ;  did 
he  not,  sir?" 

"Certainly.     I  told  you  so." 

"I  know  it,  sir.     Will  you  tell  me  what  it  amounted  to  ?" 

"Really,"  said  Mr.  Briggs,  uncomfortably,  "I  can't 
tell  without  looking  over  my  papers.  What  makes  you 
ask?" 

"Did  it  amount  to  seventy-five  thousand  dollars?"  de- 
manded Gilbert,  quietly. 

Richard  Briggs  nearly  started  from  his  seat  in  surprise 
and  dismay.  That  was  the  amount,  as  he  well  knew ;  but 
how  on  earth  could  the  boy  have  found  out  ?  He  saw  that 
his  ward  had  obtained  some  dangerously  accurate  in- 
formation somewhere;  and  that  he  was  thoroughly  in 
earnest  in  his  inquiry. 

"Who  could  have  put  such  a  thought  into  your  head?" 
he  asked,  slowly  and  hesitatingly. 

"I  won't  make  a  secret  of  it,"  said  Gilbert.  "I  have 
made  the  acquaintance  of  a  man  who  knew  my  father. 
He  tells  me  he  was  his  bookkeeper  up  to  the  time  of  his 
death.  He  claims  to  know  all  about  my  father's  affairs, 
and  the  amount  of  property  he  left." 

"There  is  some  great  mistake,"  muttered  the  merchant 
.  "\  don't  think  there  can  be.  Mr.  Talbot  has,  in  his 


238  Gilbert's  Ship  Comes  In. 

possession,  and  has  showed  to  me,  an  autograph  letter  of 
my  father,  in  which  he  gives  full  details  on  this  subject." 

"Where  is  this  Talbot  ?"  asked  Mr.  Briggs,  abruptly. 

"He  is  living  in  this  city." 

"Where?" 

"You  must  excuse  me,  Mr.  Briggs.  At  present  I  do 
not  wish  to  tell  you." 

"He  may  be  an  impostor." 

"I  have  thought  of  that;  but  such  an  imposition  could 
not  be  carried  out.  I  think  he  tells  the  truth." 

"Suppose  I  believe  the  contrary — what,  then  ?" 

"You  have  reason  to  know  whether  what  he  says  is 
correct  or  not,  Mr.  Briggs,"  said  Gilbert,  resolutely.  "If 
you  deny  it,  and  assert  thart  he  is  an  impostor,  I  will  con- 
sult a  lawyer,  and  have  him  cross-examine  him  on  the 
subject,  and  give  me  his  opinion." 

"You  have  not  spoken  to  a  lawyer  yet?"  said  Mr. 
Briggs,  uneasily. 

"No,  sir." 

"Lawyers  are  fond  of  instituting  lawsuits.  Probably 
one  would  report  favorably." 

"I  should  want  to  know  his  grounds.  And  I  would  not 
consent  to  a  suit,  unless  he  convinced  me  there  was  good 
ground  for  it." 

"Gilbert,"  said  the  merchant,  "I  feel  friendly  to  you, 
and  I  want  you  to  succeed.  Say  no  more  about  this  af- 
fair, and  to-morrow  I  will  make  over  to  you  bank  shares 
amounting  to  ten  thousand  dollars.  That  will  give  you  a 
good  start  in  life." 


Gilbert's  Ship  Comes  In.  239 

"I  only  want  what  is  my  own,"  said  Gilbert,  sturdily. 
"I  want  what  my  father  left  me." 

Mr.  Briggs  rose,  and  paced  the  room  in  silence.  His 
good  and  bad  angel  were  contending  for  the  supremacy. 
The  conflict  came  to  an  end,  and  his  better  nature  tri- 
umphed. He  resumed  his  seat,  looking  no  longer  per- 
plexed or  troubled,  but  as  one  who  had  thrown  off  a 
burden. 

"Gilbert,"  he  said,  "it  is  all  true.  I  have  tried  to  be  a 
villain ;  but  I  won't  be  one  any  longer.  Your  father  left 
you  a  fortune,  and  it  shall  be  restored  to  you." 

Gilbert  rose  and  grasped  Mr.  Briggs'  hand  cordially. 
'Boy  as  he  was,  he  comprehended  the  struggle  through 
which  his  guardian  had  passed. 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  he  said.  "I  shall  forget  all  that  has 
passed;  and  I  ask  you  to  remain  my  guardian,  and  take 
tare  of  my  property  for  me." 

Man  of  the  world  as  he  was,  Mr.  Briggs  was  touched 
by  this  proof  of  generous  confidence. 

"I  don't  deserve  this,  Gilbert;  but  I  will  do  as  you  ask. 
I  will,  however,  see  a  lawyer,  and  make  such  arrange- 
ments that  whatever  may  happen  to  me  you  will  be  safe." 

At  that  moment  the  bell  rang. 

"I  think  Mrs.  Briggs  and  Randolph  have  returned," 
said  the  merchant.  "One  word,  Gilbert,  of  what  has 
passed  between  us,  let  it  only  be  known  that  you  have 
received  a  large  legacy,  and  that  I  am  your  guardian  in 
reality  as  well  as  in  name." 

"All  right,  sir.  Perhaps  I  had  better  go.  Mrs.  Briggs 
don't  like  me." 


240  Gilbert's  Ship  Comes  In. 

Her  husband  laughed. 

"She  will  change  when  she  knows  you  are  rich,"  h« 
said.  "Don't  be  surprised.  It  is  the  way  of  the  world." 

He  had  scarcely  finished  when  Mrs.  Briggs  entered, 
followed  by  Randolph.  She  remarked  Gilbert's  presence 
with  displeasure. 

"You  here?"  she  said. 

"Yes,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Briggs,  pleasantly.  "Gilbert 
has  been  keeping  me  company." 

"He  came  on  business,  I  suppose,"  sneered  the  lady. 

"You  are  right,  my  dear.  What  made  you  guess  his 
errand?" 

"I  supposed  he  wanted  help,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs.  "He 
Wants  his  pension  restored,  of  course." 

"Is  that  what  you  came  for,  Gilbert  ?"  asked  Randolph, 
uncomfortably. 

Gilbert  rather  enjoyed  the  misapprehension  of  his  two 
enemies,  but  he  left  Mr.  Briggs  to  answer. 

"Really,  my  dear,  you  are  hardly  polite  to  my  young 
ward." 

"Your  ward !  Don't  be  ridiculous,  Mr.  Briggs.  Yoo 
know  he  hasn't  got  a  cent,  and  has  to  live  on  charity." 

"You  are  quite  mistaken,  my  dear.  Gilbert  has  just 
come  into  a  property  of  over  eighty  thousand  dollars. 
And  he  has  asked  me  to  take  charge  of  it  for  him." 

Mrs.  Briggs  sank  into  a  chair  in  utter  stupefactiofltf 
While  Randolph  opened  his  eyes  in  astonishment. 

"You  are  jesting!"  Mrs.  Briggs  managed  to  utter. 

"Not  at  all.     Is  what  I  say  correct,  Gilbert?" 

"I  believe  it  is,  sir." 


Gilbert's  Ship  Coines  In,  241 

It  is  singular  how  Gilbert  was  transformed  all  at  once 
in  the  eyes  of  the  worldly  woman  and  her  son.  Circum- 
stances were  changed,  and  they  must  change  with  them. 
It  was  awkward,  but  it  must  be  done. 

"I  congratulate  you,  Gilbert,"  she  said,  trying  to  smile. 
"You  are  certainly  very  fortunate." 

"I  should  say  he  was !"  exclaimed  Randolph.  "I  say, 
Gilbert,  come  and  live  with  us,  won't  you  ?" 

"I  should  really  be  glad  to  have  my  husband's  ward  in 
my  family,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs,  as  graciously  as  possible. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Gilbert ;  "but  this  has  come  upon  me 
so  suddenly  that  I  don't  know  what  arrangements  I  shall 
make." 

"Who  left  you  this  fortune?"  asked  Mrs.  Briggs, 
curiously. 

"We  are  not  at  liberty  to  go  into  particulars,"  said  Mr. 
'Briggs ;  "but  there  is  no  doubt  about  it." 

"If  you  will  excuse  me,  Mr.  Briggs,  I  will  leave  you 
now.  I  should  like  to  tell  my  friends  of  my  good  for- 
tune." 

"Certainly.  Come  to  my  counting  room  in  the  morning 
at  ten.  Some  arrangements  will  need  to  be  made." 

"I  will  be  on  hand,  sir." 

"Dine  with  us  to-morrow,  Gilbert,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs, 
graciously.  "Randolph  will  be  so  glad  of  your  company." 

"Thank  you." 

Gilbert  thought  it  due  to  his  guardian  to  accept.  He 
was  wise  enough  to  take  the  world  as  he  found  it,  and 
feturn  courtesy  with  courtesy. 

"Wha't  has  happened,  Gilbert  ?"  exclaimed  his  room* 


242  Gilbert's  Ship  Comes  In. 

mate,  when,  half  an  hour  later,  Gilbert  broke  into  the 
room,  his  face  full  of  excitement. 

,-"1  am  rich,  Mr.  Ingalls.    I  have  become  heir  to  eighty 
thousand  dollars." 

"Good  gracious !"  exclaimed  Alphonso  Jones,  who  was 
present.  "I  suppose  you  will  go  to  live  on  Fifth  Avenue 
among  the  swells." 

"Not  at  present,  Mr.  Jones." 

"I  am  very  glad  of  your  good  luck,  Gilbert,"  said  his 
roommate,  warmly.  "You  must  tell  me  all  about  it  by 
and  by." 

"I  wish  I  had  eighty  thousand  dollars,"  said  Alphonso. 
"Wouldn't  I  be  high-toned?" 

"Can't  one  be  high-toned  without  being  rich,  Mr. 
Jones?"  asked  Gilbert. 

Mr.  Jones  thought  not ;  but  he  made  one  mental  reser- 
vation. He  privately  thought  himself  high-toned,  though! 
be  certainly  was  not  rich. 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

CONCLUSION. 

Nowhere  did  Gilbert  receive  heartier  congratulations 
on  the  change  in  his  fortunes  than  from  Mr.  Vivian  and 
his  family.  Fred  only  was  disturbed. 

"I  suppose  you  won't  be  willing  to  teach  me  any  more, 
now  you  are  rich,  Gilbert,"  he  said. 

"I  don't  think  it  will  make  any  difference,  Fred,"  said 
Gilbert ;  "but  I  must  consult  your  father  about  my  plans." 

"What  are  your  own  views  and  wishes,  Gilbert?"  asked 
the  merchant. 

"I  want  to  get  a  better  education,"  said  Gilbert.     "1 
should  like  to  carry  out  my  original  plan,  and  go  to  col-  i  ^ 
lege.    After  I  graduate  I  may  devote  myself  to  business; 
but  a  good  education  won't  interfere  with  that." 

"I  approve  your  plan,"  said  Mr.  Vivian.  "Of  course, 
you  will  resign  your  place  at  the  broker's." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Then  I  shall  submit  a  plan  for  your  future.  We  all 
like  you,  and  you  can  be  of  use  to  Fred.  Come  and  live 
with  us.  You  can  complete  your  preparation  for  college 
at  some  first-class  school  in  the  city,  and  enter  next  sum« 
mer,  if  you  like." 

"I  hope  you  will  come,  Gilbert,"  said  Laura. 

It  might  have  been  her  voice  which  decided  Gilbert  to 


244  Conclusion. 

accept.  At  any  rate,  he  did  accept  gratefully,  and  in  less 
than  a  *week  he  was  installed  at  Mr.  Vivian's  as  a  mem- 
ber of.  the  family. 

Mr.  Sands  was  sorry  to  lose  his  services,  but  acknowl- 
edged that  it  was  better  for  him  to  give  up  his  place.  The 
day  after  his  retirement  he  was  sitting  in  Madison  Park, 
when  John,  who  had  once  caused  him  to  lose  his  place, 
espied  him.  John  had  not  yet  succeeded  in  securing  a 
place,  nor  had  Mr.  Moore,  the  bookkeeper. 

"What  brings  you  here  at  this  time  in  the  day  ?"  asked 
John,  in  surprise. 

"I  am  a  gentleman  of  leisure,"  answered  Gilbert. 

"Have  you  left  Mr.  Sands  ?"  asked  John,  eagerly 

"Yes." 

"Been  bounced,  eh  ?  "  asked  John,  radiantly. 

Gilbert  smiled.    He  understood  John's  feelinga. 

"No,"  he  answered.    "I  left  of  my  own  accord." 

"You  haven't  got  another  place  ?" 

"No." 

"Then  it's  too  thin,  your  leaving  of  your  own  accord." 

"It  does  look  so,  I  admit,"  said  Gilbert,  good-humor- 
edly.  "But  it  is  true,  nevertheless." 

"Why  did  you  leave,  then  ?  You  haven't  had  a  fortune 
left  you?" 

"You've  hit  it,  John.  I  no  longer  need  my  pay.  I  have 
become  rich,  and  shall  go  on  preparing  for  college." 

"Is  that  really  so  ?" 

"It  is  quite  true." 


Conclusion.  245 

"Some  folks  are  lucky,"  said  John,  enviously.  "I  ain't 
one  of  that  kind.  I  wish  I  could  get  your  old  place." 

"I  am  afraid  Mr.  Sands  wouldn't  take  you  back.  I 
wish  he  would,  and  that  you  would  do  so  well  that  he 
would  keep  you." 

"That  will  do  to  say,  but  you  wouldn't  help  me  back." 

"Yes,  I  would,  and  will.  I  will  go  down  to  the  office 
now,  and  ask  Mr.  Sands  to  take  you  back." 

"You  will,  after  the  mean  way  I  have  treated  you?" 
exclaimed  John,  in  surprise. 

"I  don't  bear  any  malice,  John,"  said  Gilbert.  "Here, 
take  my  hand,  and  look  upon  me  as  a  friend.  If  I  can't 
get  you  back  into  my  old  place,  I'll  try  elsewhere.  Come, 
let  us  take  the  cars  downtown,  and  I'll  see  what  I  can  do 
for  you." 

"What  a  good  fellow  you  are,  Gilbert!"  said  John, 
much  moved.  "I  am  ashamed  of  trying  to  injure  you." 

"You  didn't  know  me,  then.  But,  John,  will  you  try 
to  give  satisfaction,  if  you  are  taken  back  ?" 

"Yes,  I  will,"  said  John,  earnestly. 

Half  an  hour  later  they  entered  the  broker's  office.  No 
boy  had  been  engaged  as  yet.  Mr.  Sands  did  not  at  first 
regard  John's  application  with  favor;  though,  as  he 
understood  the  duties  of  the  place,  he  could,  if  he  pleased, 
do  better  than  a  new  boy.  Finally  the  broker  agreed  to 
take  him  on  trial. 

"Remember,  John,"  he  said,  "you  owe  your  place  to 
Gilbert's  intercession.  But  for  that  I  wouldn't  take  you 
back." 


246  Conclusion. 

"I  know  it,  sir.    I  hope  you  won't  be  sorry." 

Here  it  may  be  said  that  John  turned  over  a  new  leaf, 
and  succeeded  in  this  last  trial  in  giving  satisfaction.  His 
cousin,  Simon  Moore,  called  him  mean-spirited  for  going 
back;  but  John  felt  that  he  must  look  out  for  his  own 
interests  now,  and  did  not  regard  his  objection. 

In  his  prosperity  Gilbert  did  not  forget  Mr.  Talbot  and 
fiis  little  daughter.  While  he  continued  sick,  our  hero  al- 
lowed him  a  weekly  sum  sufficient  to  support  father  and 
daughter  comfortably;  and  on  his  recovery  he  found  him 
employment,  and  a  more  comfortable  lodging.  Little 
Emma  was  no  longer  obliged  to  go  into  the  streets  to  sell 
bouquets,  but  was  put  at  a  good  day  school.  From  time 
to  time  Gilbert  called  upon  them,  and  was  rejoiced  to 
see  the  improved  looks  and  happier  faces  of  Emma  and 
her  father. 

In  the  first  chapter  of  this  story  the  reader  will  recall 
John  Munford,  a  school  friend  of  Gilbert,  the  son  of  a 
carpenter,  who,  on  account  of  his  father's  poverty,  was 
obliged  to  leave  school  and  go  to  work.  Gilbert,  in  be- 
coming rich,  did  not  forget  his  early  friend.  One  day 
John  received  a  letter  from  Gilbert,  in  which,  after  speak- 
ing of  his  change  of  fortune,  he  wrote : 

"Now,  John,  I  have  a  large  income — much  more  than 
I  can  use — and  I  want  to  do  what  good  I  can  with  it.  I 
know  you  want  to  keep  at  school,  but  cannot  on  account 
of  your  father's  circumstances.  I  have  a  proposal  to  make 
to  you.  Give  up  work  and  go  back  to  Dr.  Burton's  school. 
I  will  allow  you  three  hundred  donars  a  year  till  you  are 


Conclusion,  447 

ready  to  go  to  college.  Then  you  shall  come  to  Yale  and 
room  with  me,  I  will  provide  for  you  in  college.  After 
you  graduate,  your  education  will  command  a  position 
that  will  make  you  independent.  Let  me  know  at  once  if 
you  accept,  or  rather,  write  me  that  you  do  accept." 

What  could  John  do  but  to  accept  this  generous  offer 
with  deep  gratitude  to  his  old  schoolfellow?  Need  it  be 
said  that  Gilbert  fulfilled  his  promise  to  the  letter?  Last 
year  the  two  friends  graduated,  both  taking  high  rank; 
and  John  is  now  principal  of  a  high  school  in  a  Massa- 
chusetts town  Gilbert  has  decided  to  lead  a  business  life, 
and  has  entered  Mr,  Vivian's  establishment.  He  will  be 
junior  partner  at  the  end  of  three  years.  He  may  form 
another  partnership  with  a  member  of  Mr.  Vivian's 
family.  I  cannot  say  positively,  but  I  think  it  quite 
probable. 

Mr.  Briggs  is  no  longer  Gilbert's  guardian.  Our  hero 
is  of  age,  and  has  assumed  the  charge  of  his  own  prop- 
erty. He  is  always  sure  of  a  cordial  welcome  from  Mrs.) 
Briggs  now,  and  Randolph  cultivates  his  intimacy;  but 
Gilbert  does  not  find  him  congenial.  He  is  inclined  to  be 
dissipated,  and,  I  am  afraid,  will  not  turn  out  well.  But 
his  mother  upholds  him  on  all  occasions,  and  her  ill- 
judged  indulgence  is  partly  the  cause  of  her  son's  lack 
of  promise. 

Gilbert  sometimes  visits  the  old  boarding  house.  Mr.  In- 
galls  is  prospering.  Alphonso  Jones  now  boasts  of  his 
intimacy  with  Gilbert.  It  is  rumored  that  he  has  offered 
himself  to  Mrs.  Kinney,  a  young  widow,  alreadv  men- 


348  Conclusion. 

tioned,  and  been  rejected.  His  heart  is  not  broken,  how- 
ever, and  he  is  now  a  suitor  for  the  hand  of  Miss  Brint- 
nail,  the  strong-minded  school  teacher.  She  is  "high- 
toned"  in  one  sense,  at  least,  as  he  will  probably  find  after 
marriage. 


JHE 


THE  OBLONG  BOX. 


SOME  years  ago,  I  engaged  passage  from  Charleston,  S.  O, 
to  the  city  of  New  York,  in  the  fine  packet-ship  Independ- 
ence, Captain  Hardy.  We  were  to  sail  on  the  fifteenth  of 
the  month  (June),  weather  permitting;  and,  on  the  four- 
teenth, I  went  on  board  to  arrange  some  matters  in  my  state- 
room. 

I  found  that  we  were  to  have  a  great  many  passengers,  in- 
cluding a  more  than  usual  number  of  ladies.  On  the  list 
were  several  of  my  acquaintances  ;  and  among  other  names, 
I  was  rejoiced  to  see  that  of  Mr.  Cornelius  Wyatt,  a  young 
artist,  for  whom  I  entertained  feelings  of  warm  friendship. 

He  had  been  with  me  a  fellow-student  at  C University, 

where  we  were  very  much  together.  He  had  the  ordinary 
temperament  of  genius,  and  was  a  compound  of  misanthropy, 
sensibility,  and  enthusiasm.  To  these  qualities  he  united  the 
warmest  and  truest  heart  which  ever  beat  in  a  human  bosom. 

I  observed  that  his  name  was  carded  upon  three  state- 
rooms ;  and,  upon  again  referring  to  the  list  of  passengers, 
I  found  that  he  had  engaged  passage  for  himself,  wife,  and 
two  sisters — his  own.  The  staterooms  were  sufficiently 
roomy,  and  each  had  two  berths,  one  above  the  other.  These 
berths,  to  be  sure,  were  so  exceedingly  narrow  as  to  be  in- 
sufficient for  more  than  one  person ;  still,  I  could  not  com- 
prehend why  there  were  three  staterooms  for  these  four  per- 
sons. I  was,  just  at  this  epoch,  in  one  of  those  moody  frames 
of  mind  which  make  a  man  abnormally  inquisitive  about  tri- 
fles :  and  I  confess,  with  shame,  that  I  busied  myself  in  a 
variety  of  ill-bred  and  preposterous  conjectures  about  this 
matter  of  the  supernumerary  stateroom.  It  was  no  business 
of  mine,  to  be  sure  ;  but  with  none  the  less  pertinacity  did  I 
occupy  myself  in  attempts  to  resolve  the  enigma.  At  last  I 
reached  a  conclusion  which  wrought  in  me  great  wonder  why 


150  TEE  OBLONG  BOX. 

I  had  not  arrived  at  it  before.  "  It  is  a  servant,  of  course," 
I  said ;  "  what  a  fool  I  am,  not  sooner  to  have  thought  of  so 
obvious  a  solution  ! "  And  then  I  again  repaired  to  the  list — . 
but  here  I  saw  distinctly  that  no  servant  was  to  come  with  the 
party  ;  although,  in  fact,  it  had  been  the  original  design  to 
bring  one — for  the  words  "  and  servant "  had  been  first  writ- 
ten and  then  overscored.  "  Oh,  extra  baggage  to  be  sure,"  I 
now  said  to  myself — "  something  he  wishes  not  to  be  put  in 
the  hold — something  to  be  kept  under  his  own  eye — ah,  I  have 
it — a  painting  or  so — and  this  is  what  he  has  been  bargaining 
about  with  Ficolino,  the  Italian  Jew."  This  idea  satisfied  me, 
and  I  dismissed  my  curiosity  for  the  nonce. 

Wyatt's  two  sisters  I  knew  very  well,  and  most  amiable  and 
clever  girls  they  were.  His  wife  he  had  newly  married,  and 
I  had  never  yet  seen  her.  He  had  often  talked  about  her  in 
my  presence,  however,  and  in  his  usual  style  of  enthusiasm. 
He  described  her  as  of  surpassing  beauty,  wit,  and  accom- 
plishment. I  was,  therefore,  quite  anxious  to  make  her  ac- 
quaintance. 

On  the  day  in  which  I  visited  the  ship  (the  fourteenth), 
"Wyatt  and  a  party  were  also  to  visit  it — so  the  captain  in- 
formed me — and  I  waited  on  board  an  hour  longer  than  I 
had  designed,  in  hope  of  being  presented  to  the  bride  ;  but 
then  an  apology  came.  "  Mr.  W.  was  a  little  indisposed,  and 
would  decline  coming  on  board  until  to-morrow,  at  the  hour 
of  sailing." 

The  morrow  having  arrived,  I  was  going  from  my  hotel  to 
the  wharf,  when  Captain  Hardy  met  me  and  said  that  "owing 
circumstances"  (a  stupid  but  convenient  phrase),  "he  rather 
thought  the  Independence  would  not  sail  for  a  day  or  two, 
and  that  when  all  was  ready,  he  would  send  up  and  let  me 
know."  This  I  thought  strange,  for  there  was  a  stiff  southerly 
breeze  ;  but  as  "  the  circumstances  "  were  not  forthcoming, 
although  I  pumped  for  them  with  much  perseverance,  I  had 
nothing  to  do  but  to  return  home  and  digest  my  impatience 
at  leisure. 

I  did  not  receive  the  expected  message  from  the  captain  for 
nearly  a  week.  It  came  at  length,  however,  and  I  immediately 
went  on  board.  The  ship  was  crowded  with  passengers,  and 
everything  was  in  the  bustle  attendant  upon  making  sail. 
Wyatt's  party  arrived  in  about  ten  minutes  after  myself. 
There  were  the  two  sisters,  the  bride,  and  the  artist — the  latter 
in  one  of  his  customary  fits  of  moody  misanthropy.  I  was 


THE  OBLONG  BOX.  151 

too  well  used  to  these,  however,  to  pay  them  any  special  at- 
tention. He  did  not  even  introduce  me  to  his  wife,  this 
courtesy  devolving,  per  force,  upon  his  sister  Marian,  a  very 
sweet  and  intelligent  girl,  who,  in  a  few  hurried  words,  made 
us  acquainted. 

Mrs.  Wyatt  had  been  closely  veiled  ;  and  when  she  raised 
her  veil,  in  acknowledging  my  bow,  I  confess  that  I  was  very 
profoundly  astonished.  I  should  have  been  much  more  so, 
however,  had  not  long  experience  advised  me  not  to  trust,  with 
too  implicit  a  reliance,  the  enthusiastic  descriptions  of  my 
friend,  the  artist,  when  indulging  in  comments  upon  the  loveli- 
ness of  woman.  When  beauty  was  the  theme,  I  well  knew  with 
what  facility  he  soared  into  the  regions  of  the  purely  ideal. 

The  truth  is,  I  could  not  help  regarding  Mrs.  Wyatt  as  a 
decidedly  plain-looking  woman.  If  not  positively  ugly,  she 
•was  not,  I  think,  very  far  from  it  She  was  dressed,  however, 
in  exquisite  taste — and  then  I  had  no  doubt  that  she  had  cap- 
tivated my  friend's  heart  by  the  more  enduring  graces  of  the 
intellect  and  soul  She  said  very  few  words,  and  passed  at 
once  into  her  stateroom  with  Mr.  W. 

My  old  inquisitiveness  now  returned.  There  was  no  servant 
— that  was  a  settled  point.  I  looked,  therefore,  for  the  extra 
baggage.  After  some  delay,  a  cart  arrived  at  the  wharf,  with 
an  oblong  pine  box,  which  was  everything  that  seemed  to  be 
expected.  Immediately  upon  its  arrival  we  made  sail,  and  in 
a  short  time  were  safely  over  the  bar  and  standing  out  to  sea. 

The  box  in  question  was,  as  I  say,  oblong.  It  was  about  six 
feet  in  length  by  two  and  a  half  in  breadth  ;  I  observed  it  at- 
tentively, and  Like  to  be  precise.  Now  this  shape  was  peculiar  ; 
and  no  sooner  had  I  seen  it,  than  I  took  credit  to  myself  for 
the  accuracy  of  my  guessing.  I  had  reached  the  conclusion, 
it  will  be  remembered,  that  the  extra  baggage  of  my  friend, 
the  artist,  would  prove  to  be  pictures,  or  at  least  a  picture  ;  for 
I  knew  he  had  been  for  several  weeks  in  conference  with  Mco- 
lino :  and  now  here  was  a  box  which,  from  its  shape,  could 
possibly  contain  nothing  in  the  world  but  a  copy  of  Leonardo's 
"  Last  Supper  ; "  and  a  copy  of  this  vei'y  "  Last  Supper,"  done 
by  Kubini  the  younger  at  Florence,  I  had  known,  for  some 
time,  to  be  in  the  possession  of  Nicolino.  This  point,  there- 
fore, I  considered  as  sufficiently  settled.  I  chuckled  exces- 
sively when  I  thought  of  my  acumen.  It  was  the  first  time  I 
had  ever  known  Wyatt  to  keep  from  me  any  of  his  artistical 
'secrets';  but  here  he  evidently  intended  to  steal  a  march  upon 


152  TEE  OBLONG  BOX. 

me,  and  smuggle  a  fine  picture  to  New  York,  tinder  my  very 
nose  ;  expecting  me  to  know  nothing  of  the  matter.  I  resolved 
to  quiz  him  wett,  now  and  hereafter. 

One  thing,  however,  annoyed  me  not  a  littla  The  box  did 
not  go  into  the  extra  stateroom.  It  was  deposited  in  Wyatt'a 
own ;  and  there,  too,  it  remained,  occupying  nearly  the  whole 
of  the  floor — no  doubt  to  the  exceeding  discomfort  of  the  artist 
and  his  wife ; — this  the  more  especially  as  the  tar  or  paint  with 
which  it  was  lettered  in  sprawling  capitals,  emitted  a  strong, 
disagreeable,  and,  to  my  fancy,  a  peculiarly  disgusting  odor. 
On  the  lid  were  painted  the  words— "Mrs.  Adelaide  Curtis, 
Albany,  New  York.  Charge  of  Cornelius  Wyalt,  Esq.  This  side 
up.  To  be  handled  with  care." 

Now,  I  was  aware  that  Mrs.  Adelaide  Curtis,  of  Albany,  was 
the  artist's  wife's  mother ;  but  then  I  looked  upon  the  whole 
address  as  a  mystification,  intended  especially  for  myself.  I 
made  up  my  mind,  of  course,  that  the  box  and  contents  would 
never  get  farther  north  than  the  studio  of  my  misanthropic 
friend,  in  Chambers  Street.  New  York. 

For  the  first  three  or  four  days  we  had  fine  weather,  although 
the  wind  was  dead  ahead ;  having  chopped  round  to  the  north- 
ward, immediately  upon  our  losing  sight  of  the  coast.  The 
passengers  were,  consequently,  in  high  spirits,  and  disposed 
to  be  social  I  must  except,  however,  Wyatt  and  his  sisters, 
who  behaved  stiffly,  and,  I  could  not  help  thinking,  uncour- 
teously  to  the  rest  of  the  party.  Wyalfs  conduct  I  did  not  so 
much  regard.  He  was  gloomy,  even  beyond  his  usual  habit—- 
in fact  he  was  morose — but  in  him  I  was  prepared  for  eccen- 
tricity. For  the  sisters,  however,  I  could  make  no  excuse. 
They  secluded  themselves  in  their  staterooms  during  the 
greater  part  of  the  passage,  and  absolutely  refused,  although  I 
repeatedly  urged  them,  to  hold  communication  with  any  per- 
son on  board. 

Mrs.  Wyatt  herself  was  far  more  agreeable.  That  is  to  say, 
she  was  chatty  ;  and  to  be  chatty  is  no  slight  recommendation 
at  sea.  She  became  excessively  intimate  with  most  of  the 
ladies  ;  and,  to  my  profound  astonishment,  evinced  no  equivo- 
cal disposition  to  coquet  with  the  men.  She  amused  us  all 
very  much.  I  say  "  amused  " — and  scarcely  know  how  to  ex- 
plain myself.  The  truth  is,  I  soon  found  that  Mrs.  \V.  was 
far  oftener  laughed  at  than  vrith.  The  gentlemen  said  little 
about  her  ;  but  the  ladies,  in  a  little  while,  pronounced  hef 
a  "  good-hearted  thing,  rather  indifferent-looking,  totally  un* 


TEE  OBLONG  BOX.  133 

educated,  and  decidedly  vulgar."  The  great  wonder  was,  how 
Wyatt  had  been  entrapped  into  such  a  match.  Wealth  was 
the  general  solution — but  this  I  knew  to  be  no  solution  at  all ; 
for  Wyatt  had  told  me  that  she  neither  brought  him  a  dollar 
nor  had  any  expectations  from  any  source  whatever.  "  He  had 
married,"  he  said,  "  for  love,  and  for  love  only ;  and  his  bride 
was  far  more  than  worthy  of  his  love."  When  I  thought  of 
these  expressions,  on  the  part  of  my  friend,  I  confess  that  I 
felt  indescribably  puzzled.  Could  it  be  possible  that  he  was 
taking  leave  of  his  senses  ?  What  else  could  I  think  ?  He,  so 
refined,  so  intellectual,  so  fastidious,  with  so  exquisite  a  per- 
ception of  the  faulty,  and  so  keen  an  appreciation  of  the  beau- 
tiful 1  To  be  sure,  the  lady  seemed  especially  fond  of  him — 
particularly  so  in  his  absence — when  she  made  herself  ridicu- 
lous by  frequent  quotations  of  what  had  been  said  by  her 
"  beloved  husband,  Mr.  Wyatt."  The  word  "  husband  "  seemed 
forever — to  use  one  of  her  own  delicate  expressions — forever 
"  on  the  tip  of  her  tongue."  In  the  meantime,  it  was  observed 
by  all  on  board,  that  he  avoided  her  in  the  most  pointed  man- 
Her.  and,  for  the  most  part,  shut  himself  up  alone  in  his  state- 
room, where,  in  fact,  he  might  have  been  said  to  live  altogether, 
leaving  his  wife  at  full  liberty  to  amuse  herself  as  she  thought 
best,  in  the  public  society  of  the  main  cabin. 

My  conclusion,  from  what  I  saw  and  heard,  was,  that  the 
artist,  by  some  unaccountable  freak  of  fate,  or  perhaps  in 
Borne  fit  of  enthusiastic  and  fanciful  passion,  had  been  induced 
to  unite  himself  with  a  person  altogether  beneath  him,  and 
that  the  natural  result,  entire  and  speedy  disgust,  had  ensued. 
I  pitied  him  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart — but  could  not,  for 
that  reason,  quite  forgive  hisincommunicativeness  in  the  mat- 
ter of  the  "  Last  Supper."  For  this  I  resolved  to  have  my 
revenge. 

One  day  he  came  upon  deck,  and,  taking  his  arm  as  had 
been  my  wont,  I  sauntered  with  him  backward  and  forward. 
His  gloom,  however  (which  I  considered  quite  natural  under 
the  circumstances),  seemed  entirely  unabated.  He  said  little, 
and  that  moodily,  and  with  evident  effort  I  ventured  a  jest 
or  two,  and  he  made  a  sickening  attempt  at  a  smile.  Poor 
fellow !  as  I  thought  of  his  wife,  I  wondered  that  he  could 
have  heart  to  put  on  even  the  semblance  of  mirth.  At  last  I 
ventured  a  home-thrust.  I  determined  to  commence  a  series 
of  covert  insinuations,  or  inuendoes,  about  the  oblong  box- 
just  to  let  him  perceive,  gradually,  that  I  was  not  altogether 


154  THE  OBLONG  BOX. 

the  butt,  or  victim,  of  his  little  bit  of  pleasant  mystification 
My  first  observation  was  by  way  of  opening  a  masked  bat« 
tery.  I  said  something  about  the  "peculiar  shape  of  thai 
box;"  and,  as  I  spoke  the  words,  I  smiled  knowingly,  winked, 
and  touched  him  gently  with  my  fore-finger  in  the  ribs. 

The  manner  in  which  Wyatt  received  this  harmless  pleas- 
antry convinced  me,  at  once,  that  he  was  mad.  At  first  he 
stared  at  me  as  if  he  found  it  impossible  to  comprehend  the 
witticism  of  my  remark ;  but  as  its  point  seemed  slowly  to 
make  its  way  into  his  brain,  his  eyes,  in  the  same  proportion, 
seemed  protruding  from  their  sockets.  Then  he  grew  very 
red — then  hideously  pale — then,  as  if  highly  amused  with 
what  I  had  insinuated,  he  began  a  loud  and  boisterous  laugh, 
which,  to  my  astonishment,  he  kept  up,  with  gradually  in- 
creasing vigor,  for  ten  minutes  or  more.  In  conclusion,  he 
fell  flat  and  heavily  upon  the  deck.  When  I  ran  to  uplift  him, 
to  all  appearance  he  was  dead. 

I  called  assistance,  and,  with  much  difficulty,  we  brought 
him  to  himself.  Upon  reviving  he  spoke  incoherently  fo* 
some  time.  At  length  we  bled  him  and  put  him  to  bed. 
The  next  morning  he  was  quite  recovered,  so  far  as  regarded 
his  mere  bodily  health.  Of  his  mind  I  say  nothing,  of  course. 
I  avoided  him  during  the  rest  of  the  passage,  by  advice  of  the 
captain,  who  seemed  to  coincide  with  me  altogether  in  my 
views  of  his  insanity,  but  cautioned  me  to  say  nothing  on  thia 
head  to  any  person  on  board. 

Several  circumstances  occurred  immediately  after  this  fit  of 
Wyatt's  which  contributed  to  heighten  the  curiosity  with  which 
I  was  already  possessed.  Among  other  things,  this :  I  had 
been  nervous — drank  too  much  strong  green  tea,  and  slept  ill 
at  night — hi  fact,  for  two  nights  I  could  not  be  properly  said 
to  sleep  at  all.  Now,  my  stateroom  opened  into  the  main 
cabin,  or  dining-room,  as  did  those  of  ah1  the  single  men  on 
board.  Wyatt's  three  rooms  were  in  the  after-cabin,  which 
was  separated  from  the  main  one  by  a  slight  sliding  door, 
never  locked  even  at  night.  As  we  were  almost  constantly  on 
a  wind,  and  the  breeze  was  not  a  little  stiff,  the  ship  heeled  to 
leeward  very  considerably  ;  and  whenever  her  starboard  side 
was  to  leeward,  the  sliding  door  between  the  cabins  slid  open, 
and  so  remained,  nobody  taking  the  trouble  to  get  up  and  shut 
it.  But  my  berth  was  in  such  a  position,  that  when  my  own 
stateroom  door  was  open,  as  well  as  the  sliding  door  in  ques- 
tion (and  my  own  door  was  always  open  on  account  of  the 


TEE  OBLONG  BOX.  155 

heat),  I  could  see  into  the  after-cabin  quite  distinctly,  and 
just  at  that  portion  of  it,  too,  where  were  situated  the  state- 
rooms  of  Mr.  Wyatt.  Well,  during  two  nights  (not  consecu- 
tive) while  I  lay  awake,  I  clearly  saw  Mrs.  W.,  about  eleven 
o'clock  each  night,  steal  cautiously  from  the  stateroom  of 
Mr.  W.,  and  enter  the  extra  room,  where  she  remained  until 
daybreak,  when  she  was  caUed  by  her  husband  and  went  back. 
That  they  were  virtually  separated  was  clear.  They  had  sep- 
arate apartments — no  doubt  in  contemplation  of  a  more  per- 
manent divorce  ;  and  here,  after  all,  I  thought,  was  the  mys- 
tery of  the  extra  stateroom. 

There  was  another  circumstance,  too,  which  interested  me 
much.  During  the  two  wakeful  nights  in  question,  and  im- 
mediately after  the  disappearance  of  Mrs.  Wyatt  into  the  extra 
stateroom,  I  was  attracted  by  certain  singular,  cautious,  sub- 
dued noises  in  that  of  her  husband.  After  listening  to  them 
for  some  time,  with  thoughtful  attention,  I  at  length  succeeded 
perfectly  in  translating  their  import.  They  were  sounds  oc- 
casioned by  the  artist  in  prying  open  the  oblong  box,  by 
means  of  a  chisel  and  mallet — the  latter  being  muffled,  or 
deadened,  by  some  soft  woollen  or  cotton  substance  in  which 
its  head  was  enveloped. 

In  this  manner  I  fancied  I  could  distinguish  the  precise 
moment  when  he  fairly  disengaged  the  lid — also,  that  I  could 
determine  when  he  removed  it  altogether,  and  when  he  de- 
posited it  upon  the  lower  berth  in  his  room  ;  this  latter  point 
I  knew,  for  example,  by  certain  slight  taps  which  the  lid  made 
in  striking  against  the  wooden  edges  of  the  berth,  as  he  en- 
deavored to  lay  it  down  very  gently — there  being  no  room  for 
it  on  the  floor.  After  this  there  was  a  dead  stillness,  and  I 
heard  nothing  more,  upon  either  occasion,  until  nearly  day- 
break ;  unless,  perhaps,  I  may  mention  a  low  sobbing,  or 
murmuring  sound,  so  very  much  suppressed  as  to  be  nearly 
inaudible — if,  indeed,  the  whole  of  this  latter  noise  were  not 
rather  produced  by  my  own  imagination.  I  say  it  seemed 
to  resemble  sobbing  or  sighing — but,  of  course,  it  could  not 
have  been  either.  I  rather  think  it  was  a  ringing  in  my  own 
ears.  Mr.  Wyatt,  no  doubt,  according  to  custom,  was  merely 
giving  the  rein  to  one  of  his  hobbies — indulging  in  one  of  his 
fits  of  artistic  enthusiasm.  He  had  opened  his  oblong  box, 
in  order  to  feast  his  eyes  on  the  pictorial  treasure  within. 
There  was  nothing  in  this,  however,  to  make  him  sob.  I  repeat 
therefore,  that  it  must  have  been  simply  a  freak  of  my  owa 


155  THE  OBLONG  B(\SL 

fancy,  distempered  by  good  Captain  Hardy's  green  tea.  Jusl 
before  dawn,  on  each  of  the  two  nights  of  which  I  speak,  I 
distinctly  heard  Mr.  Wyatt  replace  the  lid  upon  the  oblong 
box,  and  force  the  nails  into  their  old  places,  by  means  of  thq 
muffled  mallet.  Having  done  this,  he  issued  from  his  state* 
room,  fully  dressed,  and  proceeded  to  coll  Mrs.  W.  from 
hers. 

We  had  been  at  sea  seven  days,  and  were  now  off  Cape  Hat« 
ter",s,  when  there  came  a  tremendously  heavy  blow  from  the 
southwest.  We  were,  in  a  measure,  prepared  for  it,  however, 
as  the  weather  had  been  holding  out  threats  for  some  time. 
Everything  waa  made  snug,  alow  and  aloft ;  and  as  the  wind 
steadily  freshened,  we  lay  to,  at  length,  under  spanker  ancl 
foretopsail,  both  double-reefed. 

In  this  trim,  we  rode  safely  enough  for  forty-eight  hours — 
the  ship  proving  herself  an  excellent  sea  boat,  in  many  re- 
spects, and  shipping  no  water  of  any  consequence.  At  the 
end  of  this  period,  however,  the  gale  had  freshened  into  a 
hurricane,  and  our  after-sail  split  into  ribbons,  bringing  ua 
BO  much  in  the  trough  of  the  water  that  we  shipped  several 
prodigious  seas,  one  immediately  after  the  other.  By  this  ac- 
cident we  lost  three  men  overboard  with  the  caboose,  and 
nearly  the  whole  of  the  larboard  bulwarks.  Scarcely  had  we 
recovered  our  senses,  before  the  foretopsail  went  into  shreds, 
•when  we  got  up  a  storm  stay-sail,  and  with  this  did  pretty 
well  for  some  hours,  the  ship  heading  the  sea  much  more 
eteadily  than  before. 

The  gale  still  held  on,  however,  and  we  saw  no  signs  of  ita 
abating.  The  rigging  waa  found  to  be  ill-fitted,  and  greatly 
strained ;  and  on  the  third  day  of  the  blow,  about  five  in  the 
afternoon,  our  mizzen-mast,  in  a  heavy  lurch  to  windward, 
•went  by  the  board.  For  an  hour  or  more,  we  tried  hi  vain  to 
get  rid  of  it,  on  account  of  the  prodigious  rolling  of  the  ship  ; 
and,  before  we  had  succeeded,  the  carpenter  came  aft  and  an* 
nounced  four  feet  water  hi  the  hold.  To  add  to  our  dilemma, 
we  found  the  pumps  choked  and  nearly  useless. 

All  was  now  confusion  and  despair — but  an  effort  was  made 
to  lighten  the  ship  by  throwing  overboard  as  much  of  her 
cargo  as  could  be  reached,  and  by  cutting  away  the  two  masUl 
that  remained.  This  we  at  last  accomplished — but  we  were 
still  unable  to  do  anything  at  the  pumps ;  and,  in  the  mean-, 
time,  the  leak  gained  on  us  very  fast. 

Ai  suxtdowc,  the  gale  had  sensibly  diminished  in  violence*] 


THE  OBLONG  SOX.  157 

and,  as  the  sea  went  down  with  it,  we  still  entertained  faint 
hopes  of  saving  ourselves  in  the  boats.  At  eight  P.M.  the 
clouds  broke  away  to  windward,  and  we  had  the  advantage  of 
a  full  moon— a  piece  of  good  fortune  which  served  wonder- 
fully to  cheer  our  drooping  spirits. 

After  incredible  labor  we  succeeded,  at  length,  in  getting 
the  long-boat  over  the  side  without  material  accident,  and  into 
this  we  crowded  the  whole  of  the  crew  and  most  of  the  pas- 
sengers. This  party  made  off  immediately,  and,  after  under- 
going much  suffering,  finally  arrived,  in  safety,  at  Ocracoke 
Inlet,  on  the  third  day  after  the  wreck. 

Fourteen  passengers,  with  the  Captain,  remained  on  board, 
resolving  to  trust  their  fortunes  to  the  jolly-boat  at  the  stern. 
"We  lowered  it  without  difficulty,  although  it  was  only  by  a 
miracle  that  we  prevented  it  from  swamping  as  it  touched  the 
water.  It  contained,  when  afloat,  the  captain  and  his  wife, 
Mr.  Wyatt  and  party,  a  Mexican  officer,  wife,  four  children, 
and  myself,  with  a  negro  valet 

We  had  no  room,  of  course,  for  anything  except  a  few  pos- 
itively necessary  instruments,  some  provision,  and  the  clothea 
upon  our  backs.  No  one  had  thought  of  even  attempting  to 
save  anything  more.  What  must  have  been  the  astonishment 
of  all  then,  when,  having  proceeded  a  few  fathoms  from  the 
ship,  Mr.  Wyatt  stood  up  in  the  stern-sheets,  and  coolly  de- 
manded of  Captain  Hardy  that  the  boat  should  be  put  back 
for  the  purpose  of  taking  in  his  oblong  box  ! 

"Sit  down,  Mr.  Wyatt,"  replied  the  Captain,  somewhat 
sternly,  "you  will  capsize  us  if  you  do  not  sit  quite  stilL 
Our  gunwale  is  almost  in  the  water  now." 

"The  box!"  vociferated  Mr.  Wyatt,  still  standing — "the 
box,  I  say !  Captain  Hardy,  you  cannot,  you  will  not  refuse 
me.  Its  weight  will  be  but  a  trifle — it  is  nothing — mere  noth- 
ing. By  the  mother  who  bore  you — for  the  love  of  Heaven — 
by  your  hope  of  salvation,  I  implore  you  to  put  back  for  the 
box ! " 

The  Captain,  for  a  moment,  seemed  touched  by  the  earnest 
appeal  of  the  artist,  but  he  regained  his  stern  composure,  and 
merely  said : 

"  Mr.  Wyatt  you  are  mad.  I  cannot  listen  to  you.  Sit  down, 
I  say,  or  you  will  swamp  the  boat.  Stay — hold  him — seize 
him !  he  is  about  to  spring  overboard !  There — I  knew  it- 
he  is  over  I " 

As  the  Captain  said  this,  Mr.  Wyatt»  in  fact,  sprang  from 


153  THE  OBLONG  BO". 

the  boat,  and,  as  we  were  yet^a  the  lee  of  the  wreck,  sucqeede<3, 
by  almost  superhuman  exertion,  in  getting  hold  of  a  ropd 
which  hung  from  the  fore-chains.  In  another  moment  ho  was 
on  board,  and  rushing  frantically  down  into  the  cabin. 

In  the  meantime,  we  had  been  swept  astern  of  the  ship,  and 
being  quite  out  of  her  lee,  were  at  the  mercy  of  the  tremen- 
dous sea  which  was  still  running.  We  made  a  determined  ef- 
foBt  to  put  back,  but  our  little  boat  was  like  a  feather  in  the 
breath  of  the  tempest.  We  saw  at  a  glance  that  the  doom  of 
the  unfortunate  artist  was  sealed. 

As  our  distance  from  the  wreck  rapidly  increased,  the  mad. 
man  (for  as  such  only  could  we  regard  him)  was  seen  to  emerge 
from  the  companion-way,  up  which,  by  dint  of  a  strength  that 
appeared  gigantic,  he  dragged,  bodily,  the  oblong  box.  While 
we  gazed  in  the  extremity  of  astonishment,  he  passed,  rapidly, 
several  turns  of  a  three-inch  rope,  first  around  the  box  and 
then  around  his  body.  In  another  instant  both  body  and  box 
were  in  the  sea — disappearing  suddenly,  at  once  and  forever. 

We  lingered  awhile  sadly  upon  our  oars,  with  our  eyes  riv- 
eted upon  the  spot.  At  length  we  pulled  away.  The  silence 
remained  unbroken  for  an  hour.  Finally,  I  hazarded  a  re- 
mark. 

"  Did  you  observe,  Captain,  how  suddenly  they  sank  ?  Was 
not  that  an  exceedingly  singular  thing  ?  I  confess  that  I  en- 
tertained some  feeble  hope  of  his  final  deliverance,  when  I  saw 
him  lash  himself  to  the  box,  and  commit  himself  to  the  sea." 

"  They  sank  as  a  matter  of  course,"  replied  the  Captain, 
"  and  that  like  a  shot.  They  will  soon  rise  again,  however— 
but  not  till  the  salt  melts." 

"  The  salt !  "  I  ejaculated. 

"  Hush ! "  said  the  Captain,  pointing  to  the  wife  and  sisters 
of  the  deceased.  "  We  must  talk  of  these  things  at  some  more 
appropriate  time." 


We  suffered  much,  and  made  a  narrow  escape  ;  but  fortune 
befriended  us,  as  well  as  our  mates  in  the  long  boat.  We 
landed,  in  fine,  more  dead  than  alive,  after  four  days  of  intense 
distress,  upon  the  beach  opposite  Roanoke  Island.  We  re» 
mained  there  a  week,  were  not  ill-treated  by  the  wreckers,  and 
at  length  obtained  a  passage  to  New  York. 

About  a  month  after  the  loss  of  the  Independence,  I  hap- 
pened to  meet  Captain  Hardy  in  Broadway.  Our  converse 


TEE  OBLONG  BOX.  159 

tion  turned,  naturally,  upon  the  disaster,  and  especially  upon 
the  sad  fate  of  poor  Wyatt.  I  thus  learned  the  following  par- 
ticulars. 

The  artist  had  engaged  passage  for  himself,  wife,  two  sisters, 
,aiid  a  servant.  His  wife  was,  indeed,  as  she  had  been  repre- 
sented, a  most  lovely  and  most  accomplished  woman.  On 
the  morning  of  the  fourteenth  of  June  (the  day  in  which  I 
£rst  visited  the  ship),  the  lady  suddenly  sickened  and  died. 
The  young  husband  was  frantic  with  grief — but  circumstances 
imperatively  forbade  the  deferring  his  voyage  to  New  York. 
It  was  necessary  to  take  to  her  mother  the  corpse  of  his  adored 
wife,  and  on  the  other  hand,  the  universal  prejudice  which 
would  prevent  his  doing  so  openly,  was  well  known.  Nine- 
tenths  of  the  passengers  would  have  abandoned  the  ship  rather 
than  take  passage  with  the  dead  body. 

In  this  dilemma,  Captain  Hardy  arranged  that  the  corpse, 
being  first  partially  embalmed,  and  packed,  with  a  large  quan- 
tity of  salt,  in  a  box  of  suitable  dimensions,  should  be  conveyed 
on  board  as  merchandise.  Nothing  was  to  be  said  of  the  lady*s 
decease  ;  and,  as  it  was  well  understood  that  Mr.  Wyatt  had 
engaged  passage  for  his  wife,  it  became  necessary  that  some 
person  should  personate  her  during  the  voyage.  This  the  de- 
ceased's lady's  maid  was  easily  prevailed  on  to  do.  The  extra 
state-room,  originally  engaged  for  this  girl  during  her  mis- 
tress' life,  was  now  merely  retained.  In  this  state-room  tho 
pseudo-wife  slept,  of  course,  every  night.  In  the  daytime  she 
performed,  to  the  best  of  her  ability,  the  part  of  her  mistress 
— whose  person,  it  had  been  carefully  ascertained,  was  un- 
known to  any  of  the  passengers  on  board. 

My  own  mistakes  arose,  naturally  enough,  through  too  care- 
less, too  inquisitive,  and  too  impulsive  a  temperament.  But 
of  late,  it  is  a  rare  thing  that  I  sleep  soundly  at  night.  There 
is  a  countenance  which  haunts  me,  turn  as  I  will  There  ia 
on  hysterical  laugh  which  will  forever  ring  within  my  ears. 


KING  PEST. 

A  TALE  CONTAINING  AN  ALLEGORY. 


The  gods  do  bear  and  well  allow  in  kings 
The  things  which  they  abhor  in  rascal  routes. 

Buckhursfs  Tragedy  of  Ferrex  and  Porrm. 

ABOUT  twelve  o'clock,  one  night  in  the  month  of  October, 
and  during  the  chivalrous  reign  of  the  third  Edward,  t\vo  sea* 
jnen  belonging  to  the  crew  of  the  Free  and  Easy,  a  trad- 
ing schooner  plying  between  Sluys  and  the  Thames,  and  then 
at  anchor  in  that  river,  were  much  astonished  to  find  them- 
selves seated  in  the  tap-room  of  an  ale-house  in  the  parish  of 
Bt.  Andrews,  London — which  ale-house  bore  for  sign  the  por- 
traiture of  a  Jolly  Tar. 

The  room,  although  ill-contrived,  smoke-blackened,  low- 
pitched,  and  in  every  other  respect  agreeing  with  the  general 
character  of  such  places  at  the  period — was,  nevertheless,  in 
the  opinion  of  the  grotesque  groups  scattered  here  and  there 
within  it,  sufficiently  well  adapted  to  its  purpose. 

Of  these  groups  our  two  seamen  formed,  I  think,  the  most 
interesting,  if  not  the  most  conspicuous. 

The  one  who  appeared  to  be  the  elder,  and  whom  his  com- 
panion  addressed  by  the  characteristic  appellation  of  "  Legs," 
•was  at  the  same  time  much  the  taller  of  the  two.  He  might 
have  measured  six  feet  and  a  half,  and  an  habitual  stoop  in 
the  shoulders  seemed  to  have  been  the  necessary  consequence 
of  an  altitude  so  enormous.  Superfluities  in  height  were, 
however,  more  than  accounted  for  by  deficiencies  in  other  re- 
spects.  He  was  exceedingly  thin,  and  might,  as  his  associ 
ates  asserted,  have  answered,  when  drunk,  for  a  pennant  at 
the  mast-head,  or,  when  sober,  have  served  for  a  jib-boom, 
J*'it  *h*He  jests,  and  others  of  a  similar  nature,  had 


KING  PEST.  161 

produced,  at  no  time,  any  effect  upon  the  cachinnatory  mus- 
cles of  the  tar.  With  high  cheek-bones,  a  large  hawk-nose, 
retreating  chin,  fallen  under-jaw,  and  huge  protruding  white 
eyes,  the  expression  of  his  countenance,  although  tinged  with 
a  species  of  dogged  indifference  to  matters  and  things  iu  gen- 
oral,  was  not  the  less  utterly  solemn  and  serious  beyond  all 
attempts  at  imitation  or  description. 

The  younger  seaman  was,  in  all  outward  appearance,  the 
converse  of  his  companion.  His  stature  could  not  have  ex- 
ceeded four  feet.  A  pair  of  stumpy  bow-legs  supported  his 
squat,  unwieldy  figure,  while  his  unusually  short  and  thick 
arms,  with  no  ordinary  fists  at  their  extremities,  swung  off 
dangling  from  his  sides  like  the  fins  of  a  sea-turtle.  Small 
eyes,  of  no  particular  color,  twinkled  far  back  in  his  head. 
His  nose  remained  buried  in  the  mass  of  flesh  which  enveloped 
his  round,  full,  and  purple  face  ;  and  his  thick  upper-lip  rested 
upon  the  still  thicker  one  beneath  with  an  air  of  complacent 
self-satisfaction,  much  heightened  by  the  owner's  habit  of 
licking  them  at  intervals.  He  evidently  regarded  his  tall  ship- 
mate with  a  feeling  half-wondrous,  half -quizzical ;  and  stared 
up  occasionally  in  his  face  as  the  red  setting  sun  stares  up  at 
the  crags  of  Ben  Nevis. 

Various  and  eventful,  however,  had  been  the  peregrinations 
of  the  worthy  couple  in  and  about  the  different  tap-houses 
of  the  neighborhood  during  the  earlier  hours  of  the  night. 
Funds,  even  the  most  ample,  are  not  always  everlasting ;  and 
it  was  with  empty  pockets  our  friends  had  ventured  upon  the 
present  hostelrie. 

At  the  precise  period,  then,  when  this  history  properly  com- 
mences,  Legs,  and  his  fellow,  Hugh  Tarpaulin,  sat,  each  with 
both  elbows  resting  upon  the  large  oaken  table  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor,  and  with  a  hand  upon  either  cheek.  They  wera 
eyeing,  from  behind  a  huge  flagon  of  unpaid-for  "  humming- 
stuff,"  the  portentous  words,  "No  Chalk,"  which  to  their  in- 
dignation and  astonishment  were  scored  over  the  doorway  by 
means  of  that  very  mineral  whose  presence  they  purported  to 
den}-.  Not  that  the  gift  of  deciphering  written  characters— 
a  gift  among  the  commonalty  of  that  day  considered  little  less 
cabalistical  than  the  art  of  inditing — could,  in  strict  justice, 
have  been  laid  to  the  charge  of  either  disciple  of  the  sea  ;  but 
there  was,  to  say  the  truth,  a  certain  twist  in  the  formation  of 
the  letters — an  indescribable  lee-lurch  about  the  whole — which 
foreboded,  in  the  opinion  of  both  seamen,  a  long  run  of  dirty 
11 


162  KING  PEST; 

•weather ;  and  determined  them  at  once,  in  the  allegorical 
words  of  Legs  himself,  to  "  pump  ship,  clew  up  all  sail,  and 
scud  before  the  wind." 

Having  accordingly  disposed  of  what  remained  of  the  ale, 
and  looped  up  the  points  of  their  short  doublets,  they  finally 
made  a  bolt  for  the  street.  Although  Tarpaulin  rolled  twice 
into  the  fireplace,  mistaking  it  for  the  door,  yet  their  escape 
was  at  length  happily  effected — and  half  after  twelve  o'clock 
found  our  heroes  ripe  for  mischief,  and  running  for  life  down 
a  dark  alley  in  the  direction  of  St.  Andrew's  Stair,  hotly  pur- 
sued by  the  landlady  of  the  Jolly  Tar. 

At  the  epoch  of  this  eventful  tale,  and  periodically,  for 
many  years  before  and  after,  all  England,  but  more  especially 
the  metropolis,  resounded  with  the  fearful  cry  of  "  Plague ! " 
The  city  was  in  a  great  measure  depopulated — and  in  those 
horrible  regions,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Thames,  where  amid 
the  dark,  narrow,  and  filthy  lanes  and  alleys,  the  Demon  of 
Disease  was  supposed  to  have  had  his  nativity,  Awe,  Terror, 
and  Superstition  were  alone  to  be  found  stalking  abroad. 

By  authority  of  the  king  such  districts  were  placed  under 
ban,  and  all  persons  forbidden,  under  pain  of  death,  to  intrude 
upon  their  dismal  solitude.  Yet  neither  the  mandate  of  the 
monarch,  nor  the  huge  barriers  erected  at  the  entrance  of 
the  streets,  nor  the  prospect  of  that  loathsome  death  which, 
with  almost  absolute  certainty,  overwhelmed  the  wretch 
whom  no  peril  could  deter  from  the  adventure,  prevented  the 
unfurnished  and  untenanted  dwellings  from  being  stripped, 
by  the  hand  of  nightly  rapine,  of  every  article,  such  as  iron, 
brass,  or  lead  work,  which  could  in  any  manner  be  turned  to 
a  profitable  account. 

Above  all,  it  was  usually  found,  upon  the  annual  \vinter 
opening  of  the  barriers,  that  locks,  bolts,  and  secret  cellars, 
had  proved  but  slender  protection  to  those  rich  stores  of  wines 
and  liquors  which,  in  consideration  of  the  risk  and  trouble  of 
removal,  many  of  the  numerous  dealers  having  shops  in  the 
neighborhood  had  consented  to  trust,  during  the  period  of 
exile,  to  so  insufficient  a  security. 

But  there  were  very  few  of  the  terror-stricken  people  who 
attributed  these  doings  to  the  agency  of  human  hands.  Pest- 
epirits,  plague-goblins,  and  fever-demons,  were  the  popular 
imps  of  mischief  ;  and  tales  so  blood-chilling  were  hourly 
told,  that  the  whole  mass  of  forbidden  buildings  was,  at 
length,  enveloped  in  terror  as  in  a  shroud,  and  tho  plunderer 


RING  PEST.  163 

himself  was  often  scared  away  by  the  horrors  his  own  depre- 
dations had  created ;  leaving  the  entire  vast  circuit  of  pro* 
hibited  district  to  gloom,  silence,  pestilence,  and  death. 

It  was  by  one  of  the  terrific  barriers  already  mentioned, 
and  which  indicated  the  region  beyond  to  be  under  the  Pest- 
ban,  that,  in  scrambling  down  an  alley,  Legs  and  the  worthy 
Hugh  Tarpaulin  found  their  progress  suddenly  impeded.  To 
return  was  out  of  the  question,  and  no  time  was  to  be  lost,  aa 
their  pursuers  were  close  upon  their  heels.  With  thorough* 
bred  seamen  to  clamber  up  the  roughly  fashioned  plank-work 
was  a  trifle ;  and  maddened  with  the  twofold  excitement  ol 
exercise  and  liquor,  they  leaped  unhesitatingly  down  within 
the  enclosure,  and  holding  on  their  drunken  course  with  shouts 
and  yellingSj  were  soon  bewildered  in  its  noisome  and  intricate 
recesses. 

Had  they  not,  indeed,  been  intoxicated  beyond  moral  sense, 
their  reeling  footsteps  must  have  been  palsied  by  the  horrors 
of  their  situation.  The  air  was  cold  and  misty.  The  paving- 
stones,  loosened  from  their  beds,  lay  in  wild  disorder  amid 
the  tall,  rank  grass  which  sprang  up  around  the  feet  and 
ankles.  Fallen  houses  choked  up  the  streets.  The  most 
fetid  and  poisonous  smells  everywhere  prevailed  ;  and  by  the 
aid  of  that  ghastly  light  which,  even  at  midnight,  never  fails 
to  emanate  from  a  vapory  and  pestilential  atmosphere,  might 
be  discerned  lying  in  the  by-paths  and  alleys,  or  rotting  in 
the  windowless  habitations,  the  carcass  of  many  a  nocturnal 
plunderer  arrested  by  the  hand  of  the  plague  in  the  very  per- 
petration of  his  robbery. 

But  it  lay  not  in  the  power  of  images,  or  sensations,  or  im- 
pediments such  as  these,  to  stay  the  course  of  men  who, 
naturally  brave,  and,  at  that  time  especially,  brimful  of 
courage  and  "  humming-stuff ! "  would  have  reeled,  as 
straight  as  their  condition  might  have  permitted,  undauntedly 
into  the  very  jaws  of  Death.  Onward — still  onward  stalked 
the  grim  Legs,  making  the  desolate  solemnity  echo  and  re- 
echo with  yells  like  the  terrific  war-whoop  of  the  Indian ;  and 
onward,  still  onward  rolled  the  dumpy  Tarpaulin,  hanging 
on  to  the  doublet  of  his  more  active  companion,  and  far  sur- 
passing the  latter's  most  strenuous  exertions  in  the  way  of 
vocal  music,  by  bull-roarings  in  basso,  from  the  profundity  of 
his  stentorian  lungs. 

They  had  now  evidently  reached  the  stronghold  of  the  pes- 
tilence. '  Their  way  at  every  step  or  plunge  grew  more  no* 


164  KINO  PEST. 

some  and  more  horrible — the  paths  more  narrow  and  more 
intricate.  Huge  stones  and  beams  falling  momently  from  the 
decaying  roo^s  above  them,  gave  evidence,  by  their  sullen  and 
heavy  descent,  of  the  vast  height  of  the  surrounding  houses ; 
and  while  actual  exertion  became  necessary  to  force  a  passage 
through  frequent  heaps  of  rubbish,  it  was  by  no  means  sel- 
dom that  the  hand  fell  upon  a  skeleton  or  rested  upon  a  more 
fleshy  corpse. 

Suddenly,  as  the  seamen  stumbled  against  the  entrance  of 
a  tall  and  ghastly-looking  building,  a  yell  more  than  usually 
shrill  from  the  throat  of  the  excited  Legs,  was  replied  to  from 
•within,  in  a  rapid  succession  of  wild,  laughter-like,  and  fiend- 
ish shrieka  Nothing  daunted  at  sounds  which,  of  such  a  na- 
ture, at  such  a  time,  and  in  such  a  place,  might  have  curdled 
the  very  blood  in  hearts  less  irrevocably  on  fire,  the  drunken 
couple  rushed  headlong  against  the  door,  burst  it  open,  and 
staggered  into  the  midst  of  things  with  a  volley  of  curses. 

The  room  within  which  they  found  themselves  proved  to  be 
the  shop  of  an  undertaker  ;  but  an  open  trap-door,  in  a  cor- 
ner of  the  floor  near  the  entrance,  looked  down  upon  a  long 
range  of  wine-cellars,  whose  depths  the  occasional  sound  of 
bursting  bottles  proclaimed  to  be  well  stored  with  their  ap- 
propriate contents.  In  the  middle  of  the  room  stood  a  table 
— in  the  centre  of  which  again  arose  a  huge  tub  of  what  ap- 
peared to  be  punch.  Bottles  of  various  wines  and  cordials, 
together  with  jugs,  pitchers,  and  flagons  of  every  shape  and 
quality,  were  scattered  profusely  upon  the  board.  Around 
it,  upon  coffin-tressels,  were  seated  a  company  of  six.  Thia 
company  I  will  endeavor  to  delineate  one  by  one. 

Fronting  the  entrance,  and  elevated  a  little  above  his  com- 
panions, sat  a  personage  who  appeared  to  be  the  president  of 
the  table.  His  stature  was  gaunt  and  tall,  and  Legs  was  con- 
founded to  behold  in  him  a  figure  more  emaciated  than  him- 
self. His  face  was  as  yellow  as  saffron — but  no  feature,  ex- 
cepting one  alone,  was  sufficiently  marked  to  merit  a  particular 
description.  This  one  consisted  in  a  forehead  so  unusually 
and  hideously  lofty,  as  to  have  the  appearance  of  a  bonnet  or 
crown  of  flesh  superadded  upon  the  natural  head.  His  mouth 
was  puckered  and  dimpled  into  an  expression  of  ghastly  affa- 
bility, and  his  eyes,  as  indeed  the  eyes  of  all  at  the  table,  were 
glazed  over  with  the  fumes  of  intoxication.  This  gentleman 
was  clothed  from  head  to  foot  in  a  richly  embroidered  black 
irilk-velvet  pall,  wrapped  negligently  around  his  form  after  the 


KING  PEST.  165 

fashion  of  a  Spanish  cloak.  His  head  was  stuck  full  of  sable 
hearse-plumes,  which  he  nodded  to  and  fro  with  a  jaunty  and 
knowing  air  ;  and  in  his  right  hand  he  held  a  huge  human 
thigh-bone,  with  which  he  appeared  to  have  been  just  knock- 
ing down  some  member  of  the  company  for  a  song. 

Opposite  him,  and  with  her  back  to  the  door,  was  a  lady  of 
no  whit  the  less  extraordinary  character.  Although  quite  as 
tall  as  the  person  just  described,  she  had  no  right  to  com- 

Elain  of  his  unnatural  emaciation.  She  was  evidently  in  the 
ist  stage  of  a  dropsy ;  and  her  figure  resembled  nearly  that 
of  the  huge  puncheon  of  October  beer  which  stood,  with  the 
head  driven  in,  close  by  her  side,  in  a  corner  of  the  chamber. 
Her  face  was  exceedingly  round,  red,  and  full ;  and  the  same 
peculiarity,  or  rather  want  of  peculiarity,  attached  itself  to  her 
countenance,  which  I  before  mentioned  in  the  case  of  the  presia 
dent — that  is  to  say,  only  ,one  feature  of  her  face  was  suffi- 
ciently distinguished  to  need  a  separate  characterization: 
indeed  the  acute  Tarpaulin  immediately  observed  that  the 
same  remark  might  have  applied  to  each  individual  person  of 
the  party,  every  one  of  whom  seemed  to  possess  a  monopoly 
of  some  particular  portion  of  physiognomy.  With  the  lady 
in  question  this  portion  proved  to  be  the  mouth.  Commen- 
cing at  the  right  ear,  it  swept  with  a  terrific  chasm  to  the  left 
— the  short  pendants  which  she  wore  in  either  auricle  contin- 
ually bobbing  into  the  aperture.  She  made,  however,  every 
exertion  to  keep  her  mouth  closed  and  look  dignified,  in  a 
dress  consisting  of  a  newly  starched  and  ironed  shroud  com- 
ing up  close  under  her  chin,  with  a  crimpled  ruffle  of  cam 
brie  muslin. 

At  her  right  hand  sat  a  diminutive  young  lady  whom  she 
appeared  to  patronize.  This  delicate  creature,  in  the  trem- 
bling of  her  wasted  fingers,  in  the  livid  hue  of  her  lips,  and  in 
the  slight  hectic  spot  which  tinged  her  otherwise  leaden  com- 
plexion, gave  evident  indications  of  a  galloping  consumption. 
An  air  of  extreme  haut  ton,  however,  pervaded  her  whole  ap- 
pearance ;  she  wore  in  a  graceful  and  degagee  manner,  a  large 
and  beautiful  winding-sheet  of  the  finest  India  lawn  ;  her  hair 
hung  in  ringlets  over  her  neck  ;  a  soft  smile  played  about 
her  mouth ;  but  her  nose,  extremely  long,  thin,  sinuous, 
flexible,  and  pimpled,  hung  down  far  below  her  under  lip, 
and  in  spite  of  the  delicate  manner  in  which  she  now  and 
then  moved  it  to  one  side  or  the  other  with  her  tongue,  gave 
to  her  countenance  a  somewhat  equivocal  expression. 


1&6  KINO  PEST. 

Over  against  her,  and  upon  the  left  of  the  dropsical  lady, 
•was  seated  a  little  puffy,  wheezing,  and  gouty  old  man,  whose 
cheeks  reposed  upon  the  shoulders  of  their  owner  like  two 
huge  bladders  of  Oporto  wine.  With  his  arms  folded,  ;;nd 
•with  one  bandaged  leg  deposited  upon  the  table,  he  seemed 
to  th'ink  himself  entitled  to  some  consideration.  He  evidently 
prided  himself  much  upon  every  inch  of  his  personal  appear- 
ance, but  took  more  especial  delight  in  calling  attention  to 
his  gaudy-colored  surtout.  This,  to  say  the  truth,  must  have 
cost  him  no  little  money,  and  was  made  to  fit  him  exceed- 
ingly well — being  fashioned  from  one  of  the  curiously  em- 
broidered silken  covers  appertaining  to  those  glorious  escutch- 
eons which,  in  England  and  elsewhere,  are  customarily  hung 
up,  in  some  conspicuous  place,  upon  the  dwellings  of  departed 
aristocracy. 

Next  to  him,  and  at  the  right  hand  of  the  president,  was  a 
gentleman  in  long  white  hose  and  cotton  drawers.  His  fr;aae 
shook,  in  a  ridiculous  manner,  with  a  fit  of  what  Tarpaulin 
called  "the  horrors."  His  jaws,  which  had  been  luvdy 
shaved,  were  tightly  tied  up  by  a  bandage  of  muslin  ;  and  hia 
arms  being  fastened  in  a  similar  way  at  the  wrists,  pre\  1 
him  from  helping  himself  too  freely  to  the  liquors  upon  the 
table  ;  a  precaution  rendered  neccessary,  in  the  opinion  of 
Legs,  by  the  peculiarly  sottish  and  wine-bibbing  cast  of  his 
visage.  A  pair  of  prodigious  ears,  nevertheless,  which  it  was 
no  doubt  found  impossible  to  confine,  towered  away  into  the 
atmosphere  of  the  apartment,  and  were  occasionally  pricked 
up  in  a  spasm,  at  the  sound  of  the  drawing  of  a  cork. 

Fronting  him,  sixthly  and  lastly,  was  situated  a  singularly 
stiff-looking  personage,  who,  being  afflicted  with  paralysis, 
must,  to  speak  seriously,  have  felt  very  ill  at  ease  in  his  un- 
accommodating habiliments.  .  He  was  habited,  somewhat 
uniquely,  in  a  new  and  handsome  mahogany  coffin.  Its  top 
or  head-piece  pressed  upon  the  skull  of  the  wearer,  and  ex- 
tended over  it  in  the  fashion  of  a  hood,  giving  to  the  entire 
face  an  air  of  indescribable  interest  Arm-holes  had  been 
cut  in  the  sides  for  the  sake  not  more  of  elegance  than  of 
convenience ;  but  the  dress,  nevertheless,  prevented  its  pro- 
prietor from  sitting  as  erect  as  his  associates ;  and  as  he  lay 
reclining  against  his  tressel,  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees, 
a  pair  of  huge  goggle  eyes  rolled  up  their  awful  whites  to- 
ward the  ceiling  in  absolute  amazement  at  their  own  enor- 
mity. 


RING  PEST.  167 

Before  each  of  the  party  lay  a  portion  of  a  skull,  which 
was  vised  as  a  drinking-cup.  Overhead  was  suspended  a 
human  skeleton,  by  means  of  a  rope  tied  round  one  of  the 
legs  and  fastened  to  a  ring  in  the  ceiling.  The  other  limb, 
confined  by  no  such  fetter,  stuck  off  from  the  body  at  right 
angles,  causing  the  whole  loose  and  rattling  frame  to  dangle 
and  twirl  about  at  the  caprice  of  every  occasional  puff  of  wind 
which  found  its  way  into  the  apartment.  In  the  cranium  of 
this  hideous  thing  lay  a  quantity  of  ignited  charcoal,  which 
threw  a  fitful  but  vivid  light  over  the  entire  scene  ;  while  cof- 
fins, and  other  wares  appertaining  to  the  shop  of  an  under- 
taker, were  piled  high  up  around  the  room,  and  against  the 
windows,  preventing  any  ray  from  escaping  into  the  street 

At  sight  of  this  extraordinary  assembly,  and  of  their  still 
more  extraordinary  paraphernalia,  our  two  seamen  did  not 
conduct  themselves  with  that  degree  of  decorum  which  might 
have  been  expected.  Legs,  leaning  against  the  wall  near 
which  he  happened  to  be  standing,  dropped  his  lower  jaw 
still  lower  than  usual,  and  spread  open  his  eyes  to  their 
fullest  extent ;  while  Hugh  Tarpaulin,  stooping  down  so  ; 
to  bring  his  nose  upon  a  level  with  the  table,  and  spreadin^ 
out  a  palm  upon  either  knee,  burst  into  a  long,  loud,  and  ob- 
streperous roar  of  very  ill-timed  and  immoderate  laughter. 

Without,  however,  taking  offence  at  behavior  so  excessively 
jrude,  the  tall  president  smiled  very  graciously  upon  the  in- 
truders— nodded  to  them  in  a  dignified  manner  with  his 
head  of  sable  plumes — and,  arising,  took  each  by  an  arm, 
and  led  hiin  to  a  seat  which  some  others  of  the  company  had 
placed  in  the  meantime  for  his  accommodation.  Legs  to  all 
this  offered  not  the  slightest  resistance,  but  sat  down  as  he 
was  directed ;  while  the  gallant  Hugh,  removing  his  coffin 
tressel  from  its  station  near  the  head  of  the  table,  to  the  vi- 
cinity of  the  little  consumptive  lady  in  the  winding-sheet, 
plumped  down  by  her  side  in  high  glee,  and  pouring  out  a 
skull  of  red  wine,  quaffed  it  to  their  better  acquaintance. 
But  at  this  presumption  the  stiff  gentleman  in  the  coffin 
seemed  exceedingly  nettled  ;  and  serious  consequences  might 
have  ensued,  had  not  the  president,  rapping  upon  the  table 
with  his  truncheon,  diverted  the  attention  of  all  present  to 
the  following  speech : 

"  It  becomes  our  duty  upon  the  present  happy  occasion " 

"  Avast  there  i  "  interrupted  Legs,  looking  very  serious, 
k  avast- there  a  bit,  I  say,  and  tell  who  the  devil  ye  all  are,  and 


168  KING  PEST. 

what  business  ye  have  here,  rigged  off  like  the  foul  fiends,  and 
swilling  the  snug  blue  ruin  stowed  away  for  the  winter  by  my 
honest  shipmate,  Will  Wimble  the  undertaker !  " 

At  this  unpardonable  piece  of  ill- breeding,  all  the  original 
company  half  started  to  their  feet,  and  uttered  the  same  rapid 
succession  of  wild  fiendish  shrieks  which  had  before  caught 
the  attention  of  the  seamen.  The  president,  however,  was  the 
first  to  recover  his  composure,  and  at  length,  turning  to  Legs 
with  great  dignity,  recommenced : 

"  Most  willingly  will  we  gratify  any  reasonable  curiosity  on 
the  part  of  guests  so  illustrious,  unbidden  though  they  be. 
Know  then  that  in  these  dominions  I  am  monarch,  and  here 
rule  with  undivided  empire  under  the  title  of  '  King  Pest  the 
First.' 

"  This  apartment,  which  you  no  doubt  profanely  suppose  to 
be  the  shop  of  Will  Wimble  the  undertaker — a  man  whom  we 
know  not,  and  whose  plebeian  appellation  has  never  before  thia 
night  thwarted  our  royal  ears — this  apartment,  I  say,  is  the 
Dais-Chamber  of  our  Palace,  devoted  to  the  councils  of  our 
kingdom,  and  to  other  sacred  and  lofty  purposes. 

"  The  noble  lady  who  sits  opposite  is  Queen  Pest,  our  Serene 
Consort.  The  other  exalted  personages  whom  you  behold 
are  all  of  our  family,  and  wear  the  insignia  of  the  blood  royal 
undrr  the  respective  titles  of  '  His  Grace  the  Archduke  Pest- 
iferous ' — '  His  Grace  the  Duke  Pest-Eential ' — '  His  Grace 
the  Duke  Tern-Pest  '—and  «  Her  Serene  Highness  the  Arch- 
duchess Ana-Pest.' 

"As  regards,"  continued  he,  "your  demand  of  the  business 
upon  which  we  sit  here  in  council,  we  might  be  pardoned  for 
replying  that  it  concerns,  and  concerns  alone,  our  own  private 
and  regal  interest,  and  is  in  no  manner  important  to  any  other 
than  ourself.  But  in  consideration  of  those  rights  to  which,  as 
guests  and  strangers,  you  may  feel  yourselves  entitled,  we  will 
furthermore  explain  that  we  are  here  this  night,  prepared  by 
deep  research  and  accurate  investigation,  to  examine,  analyze, 
and  thoroughly  determine  the  indefinable  spirit — the  incom- 
prehensible qualities  and  nature — of  those  inestimable  treas- 
ures of  the  palate,  the  wines,  ales,  and  liqueurs  of  this  goodly 
metropolis ;  by  so  doing  to  advance  not  more  our  own  designs 
than  the  true  welfare  of  that  unearthly  sovereign  whose  reign 
is  over  us  all,  whose  dominions  are  unlimited,  and  whose  name 
is  'Death.'" 

"  Whose  name  is  Davy  Jones  ! "  ejaculated  Tarpaulin,  help* 


KING  PEST.  K9 

ing  the  lady  by  his  side  to  a  skull  of  liqueur,  and  pouring  out 
a  second  for  himself. 

"  Profane  varlet !  "  said  the  president,  now  turning  his  at- 
tention to  the  worthy  Hugh,  "  profane  and  execrable  wretch ! 
•we  have  said,  that  in  consideration  of  those  rights  which, 
even  in  thy  filthy  person,  we  feel  no  inclination  to  violate,  we 
have  condescended  to  make  reply  to  thy  rude  and  unseason- 
|ble  inquiries.  We  nevertheless,  for  thy  unhallowed  intrusion 
npon  our  councils,  believe  it  our  duty  to  mulct  thee  and  thy 
companion  in  each  a  gallon  of  Black  Strap,  having  imbibed 
•which  to  the  prosperity  of  our  kingdom,  at  a  single  draught 
and  upon  your  bended  knees,  ye  shall  be  forthwith  free 
either  to  proceed  upon  your  way,  or  remain  and  be  admit- 
ted to  the  privileges  of  our  table,  according  to  your  respective 
and  individual  pleasures." 

"  It  would  be  a  matter  of  utter  unpossibility,"  replied  Legs, 
whom  the  assumptions  and  dignity  of  King  Pest  the  First  had 
evidently  inspired  with  some  f  eelings  of  respect,  and  who  arose 
and  steadied  himself  by  the  table  as  he  spoke — "  it  would, 
please  your  majesty,  be  a  matter  of  utter  unpossibility  to  stow 
away  in  my  hold  even  one-fourth  part  of  that  same  liquor 
which  your  majesty  has  just  mentioned.  To  say  nothing  of 
the  stuffs  placed  on  board  in  the  forenoon  by  way  of  ballast, 
and  not  to  mention  the  various  ales  and  liqueurs  shipped  this 
evening  at  various  seaports,  I  have,  at  present,  a  full  cargo  of 
'humming  stuff'  taken  in  and  duly  paid  for  at  the  sign  of  the 
'Jolly  Tar.'  You  will,  therefore,  please  your  majesty,  be  so 
good  as  to  take  the  will  for  the  deed — for  by  no  manner  of 
means  either  can  I  or  will  I  swallow  another  drop — least  of  all  a 
drop  of  that  villanous  bilge-water  that  answers  to  the  hail  of 
'Black-Strap.' " 

"Belay  that!"  interrupted  Tarpaulin,  astonished  not 
more  at  the  length  of  his  companion's  speech  than  at  the  na- 
ture of  his  refusal,  "Belay  that,  you  lubber!  and  I  say, 
Legs,  none  of  your  palaver !  My  hull  is  still  light,  although 
I  confess  you  yourself  seem  to  be  a  little  top-heavy  ;  and  as 
for  the  matter  of  your  share  of  the  cargo,  why,  rather  than 
raise  a  squall  I  would  find  stowage-room  for  it  myself, 
but " 

"  This  proceeding,"  interposed  the  president,  "  is  by  no 
means  in  accordance  with  the  terms  of  the  mulct  or  sentence, 
.which  -is  in  its  nature  Median,  and  not  to  be  altered  or  re- 
called. The  conditions  we  have  imposed  must  be  fulfilled  to 


170  KINO  PE81. 

the  letter,  and  tnat  without  a  moment's  hesitation — in  failure 
of  which  fulfilment  we  decree  that  you  do  here  be  tied  neck 
and  heels  together,  and  duly  drowned  as  rebels  in  yon  hogs- 
head of  October  beer ! " 

"  A  sentence  ! — a  sentence  ! — a  righteous  and  just  sentence ! 
— a  glorious  decree  ! — a  most  worthy  and  upright,  and  holy 
condemnation  !  "  shouted  the  Pest  family  altogether.  The 
king  elevated  his  forehead  into  innumerable  wrinkles  ;  the 
gouty  little  old  man  puffed  like  a  pair  of  bellows  ;  the  lady  of 
the  winding-sheet  waved  her  nose  to  and  fro  ;  the  gentleman 
in  the  cotton  drawers  pricked  up  his  ears  ;  she  of  the  shroud 
gasped  like  a  dying  fish  ;  and  he  of  the  coffin  looked  stiff  and 
rolled  up  his  eyes. 

"  Ugh !  ugh  !  ugh ! "  chuckled  Tarpaulin,  without  heeding 
the  general  excitation,  "ugh!  ugh!  ugh! — ugh!  ugh!  ugh  I 
ugh — ugh!  ugh!  ugh! — I  was  saying,"  said- he,  "I  was  say- 
ing, when  Mr.  King  Pest  poked  in  his  marline-spike,  that  as  for 
the  matter  of  two  or  three  gallons  more  or  less  of  Black  Strap, 
it  was  a  trifle  to  a  tight  sea-boat  like  myself  not  overstowed ; 
but  when  it  comes  to  drinking  the  health  of  the  Devil  (whom 
God  assoilzie)  and  going  down  upon  my  marrow-bones  to  hia 
ill-favored  majesty  there,  whom  I  know,  as  well  as  I  know 
myself  to  be  a  sinner,  to  be  nobody  in  the  whole  world  but 
Tim  Hurlygurly  the  stage-player  ! — why  !  it's  quite  another 
guess  sort  of  a  tiling,  and  uttei'ly  and  altogether  past  my 
comprehension. " 

He  was  not  allowed  to  finish  this  speech  in  tranquillity. 
At  the  name  of  Tim  Hurlygurly  the  whole  assembly  leaped 
from  their  seats. 

'  Treason  ! "  shouted  his  Majesty  King  Pest  the  First. 

'  Treason  !  "  said  the  little  man  with  the  gout. 

1  Treason  ! "  screamed  the  Archduchess  Ana-Pest. 

1  Treason  !  "  muttered  the  gentleman  with  his  jaws  tied  up. 

•  Treason  1 "  growled  he  of  the  coffin. 

'  Treason !  "  treason  !  "  shrieked  her  majesty  of  the  mouth ; 
and,  seizing  by  the  hinder  part  of  his  breeches  the  unfortu- 
nate Tarpaulin,  who  had  just  commenced  pouring  out  for 
himself  a  skull  of  liqueur,  she  lifted  him  high  into  the  air,  and 
let  him  fall  without  ceremony  into  the  huge  open  pimcheoa 
of  his  beloved  ale.  Bobbing  up  and  down,  for  a  few  seconds, 
like  au  apple  in  a  bowl  of  toddy,  he  at  length  finally  disap- 
peared aini<!  tho  whirlpool  of  foam  which,  in  the  already  ef» 
ffr.-vnp.nrm*-  Hquor,  his  struggles  easily  succeeded  in  crc^tkio1. 


KING  PEST.  171 

Not  tamely,  however,  did  the  tall  seamaa  behold  the  dis- 
comfiture of  his  companion.  Jostling  King  Pest  through  th« 
open  trap,  the  valiant  Legs  slammed  the  door  down  upon 
him  with  an  oath,  and  strode  toward  the  centre  of  the  room. 
Here  tearing  down  the  skeleton  which  swung  over  the  table, 
he  laid  it  about  him  with  so  much  energy  and  good-will,  that, 
as  the  last  glimpses  of  light  died  away  within  the  apartment, 
he  succeeded  in  knocking  out  the  brains  of  the  little  gentle- 
man with  the  gout.  Bushing  then  with  all  his  force  against 
the  fatal  hogshead  full  of  October  ale  and  Hugh  Tarpaulin, 
he  rolled  it  over  and  over  in  an  instant.  Out  burst  a  deluge 
of  liquor  so  fierce,  so  impetuous,  so  overwhelming,  that  the 
room  was  flooded  from  wall  to  wall — the  loaded  table  was 
overturned — the  tressels  were  thrown  upon  their  backs — the 
tub  of  punch  into  the  fireplace — and  the  ladies  into  hysterics. 
Piles  of  death-furniture  floundered  about.  Jugs,  pitchers,  and 
carboys  mingled  promiscuously  in  the  melee,  and  wicker  flag- 
ons encountered  desperately  with  bottles  of  junk.  The  man 
with  the  horrors  was  drowned  upon  the  spot — the  little  stiff 
gentleman  floated  off  in  his  coffin — and  the  victorious  Legs, 
seizing  by  the  waist  the  fat  lady  in  the  shroud,  rushed  out 
with  her  into  the  street,  and  made  a  bee-line  for  the  Free 
and  Easy,  followed  under  easy  sail  by  the  redoubtable  Hugh 
Tarpaulin,  who,  having  sneezed  three  or  four  times,  pantecl 
and  puffed  after  him  with  the  Archduchess  Ana-Pest. 


THREE  SUND '  YS  IN  A  WEEK. 


"  You  hard-hearted,  dunder-headed,  obstinate,  rusty,  crusty, 
musty,  fusty  old  savage  !  "  said  I,  in  fancy,  one  afternoon,  to 
my  granduncle  Eumgudgeon — shaking  my  fist  at  him  in 
imagination. 

Only  in  imagination.  The  fact  is,  some  trivial  discrepancy 
did  exist,  just  then,  between  what  I  said  and  what  I  had  not 
the  courage  to  say — between  what  I  did  and  what  I  had  half 
a  mind  to  do. 

The  old  porpoise,  as  I  opened  the  drawing-room  door,  was 
sitting  with  his  feet  upon  the  mantel-piece,  and  a  bumper  of 
port  in  his  paw,  making  strenuous  efforts  to  accomplish  the 
ditty 

Remplia  ton  verre  vide  ! 
Vide  ton  verre  plein  I 

"My  dear  uncle,"  said  I,  closing  the  door  gently,  and  ap- 
proaching him  with  the  blandest  of  smiles,  "  you  are  always 
BO  very  kind  and  considerate,  and  have  evinced  your  benevo- 
lence in  so  many — so  very  many  ways — that — that  I  feel  I 
have  only  to  suggest  this  little  point  to  you  once  more  to  make 
sure  of  your  full  acquiescence." 

"  Hem  !  "  said  he,  "  good  boy  !  go  on." 

"I  am  sure,  my  dearest  uncle  [you  confounded  old  rascal !], 
that  you  have  no  design  really,  seriously,  to  oppose  my  union 
•with  Kate.  This  is  merely  a  joke  of  yours,  I  know — ha  !  hal 
ha  ! — how  very  pleasant  you  are  at  times." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! "  said  he,  "  curse  you  !  yes !  " 

"To  be  sure — of  course  !  I  knew  you  were  jesting.  Now, 
uncle,  all  that  Kate  and  myself  wish  at  present,  is  that  you 
would  oblige  us  with  your  advice  as — as  regards  the  time— 
you  know,  uncle— in  short,  when  will  it  be  most  convenient 


THREE  SUNDAYS  IN  A    WEEK.  173 

for  yourself,  that  the  wedding  shall — shall — come  off,  you 
know  ?  " 

"  Come  off,  you  scoundrel ! — what  do  you  mean  by  that  ? — • 
Better  wait  till  it  goes  on." 

"  Ha !  ha  !  ha !— he  !  he  !  he  !— hi !  hi !  hi  !— ho  !  ho  !  ho  I 
• — hu  !  hu !  hu ! — oh,  that's  good  ! — oh,  that's  capital — such  a 
wit !  But  all  we  want  just  now,  you  know,  uncle,  is  that  you 
would  indicate  the  time  precisely." 

"  Ah ! — precisely  ?  " 

"  Yes,  uncle — that  is,  if  it  would  be  quite  agreeable  to 
yourself." 

"  Wouldn't  it  answer,  Bobby,  if  I  were  to  leave  it  at  ran- 
dom— some  time  within  a  year  or  so,  for  example  ? — must  I 
Bay  precisely  ?  " 

"If  yon  please,  uncle — precisely." 

"Well,  then,  Bobby,  my  boy — you're  a  fine  fellow,  aren't 
you  9 — since  you  will  have  the  exact  time,  I'll — why,  I'll  oblige 
you  for  once." 

"  Dear  uncle  !  " 

"  Hush,  sir  !  "  [drowning  my  voice] — "  I'll  oblige  you  for 
once.  You  shall  have  my  consent — and  the  plum,  we  must'nt 
forget  the  plum— let  me  see  !  when  shall  it  be  ?  To-day's 
Sunday — isn't  it  ?  Well,  then,  you  shall  be  married  precisely 
— precisely,  now  mind ! — when  three  Sundays  come  together  in 
a  week  /  Do  you  hear  me,  sir  ?  What  are  you  gaping  at  ?  I 
say,  you  shall  have  Kate  and  her  plum  when  three  Sundays 
come  together  in  a  week — but  not  till  then — you  young  scape- 
grace— not  till  then,  if  I  die  for  it  You  know  me — I'm  a  man 
of  my  word — now  be  off !  "  Here  he  swallowed  his  bumper 
of  port,  while  I  rushed  from  the  room  in  despair. 

A  very  "  fine  old  English  gentleman,"  was  my  grand-uncle 
Kumgudgeon,  but  unlike  him  of  the  song,  he  had  his  weak 
points.  He  was  a  little,  pursy,  pompous,  passionate,  semicir- 
cular somebody,  with  a  red  nose,  a  thick  skull,  a  long  purse, 
and  a  strong  sense  of  his  own  consequence.  With  the  best 
heart  in  the  world,  he  contrived,  through  a  predominant 
whim  of  contradiction,  to  earn  for  himself,  among  those  who 
only  knew  him  superficially,  the  character  of  a  curmudgeon. 
Like  many  excellent  people,  he  seemed  possessed  with  a  spirit 
of  tantalization,  which  might  easily,  at  a  casual  glance,  have 
been  mistaken  for  malevolence.  To  every  request,  a  positive 
"  No  ! "  was  his  immediate  answer  ;  but  in  the  end — in  the 
long,  long  end — there  were  exceedingly  few  requests  which 


174  THBEE  SUNDAYS  IN  A    WEEK 

l>e  refused.  Against  all  attatcks  upon  his  purse  lie  made  the 
most  sturdy  defence ;  but  the  amount  extorted  from  him  at 
last  was,  generally,  in  direct  ratio  with  the  length  of  the  siege 
and  the  stubbornness  of  the  resistance.  In  charity  no  one 
gave  more  liberally  or  with  a  worse  grace. 

For  the  fine  arts,  and  especially  for  the  belles  lettres,  he 
entertained  a  profound  contempt.  With  this  he  had  been 
inspired  by  Casimir  Perier,  whose  pert  little  query  "  A  quoi 
un  poete  est-il  bon  ?  "  he  was  in  the  habit  of  quoting,  with  a 
very  droll  pronunciation,  as  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  logical  wit 
Thus  my  own  inkling  for  the  Muses  had  excited  his  entire 
displeasure.  He  assured  me  one  day,  when  I  asked  him  for  a 
new  copy  of  Horace,  that  the  translation  of  "  Poeta,  nascitur 
nan  fit "  was  "a  nasty  poet  for  nothing  fit" — a  remark  which 
I  took  in  high  dudgeon.  His  repugnance  to  "  the  human- 
ities "  had,  also,  much  increased  of  late,  by  an  accidental  bias 
in  favor  of  what  he  supposed  to  be  natural  science.  Some- 
body had  accosted  him  in  the  street,  mistaking  him  for  no 
less  a  personage  than  Doctor  Dubble  L.  Dee,  the  lecturer 
upon  quack  physics.  This  set  him  off  at  a  tangent ;  and  just 
at  the  epoch  of  this  story — for  story  it  is  getting  to  be  after 
all — my  grand-uncle  Bumgudgeon  was  accessible  and  pacific 
only  upon  points  which  happened  to  chime  in  with  the  cap- 
rioles of  the  hobby  he  was  riding.  For  the  rest,  he  laughed 
with  his  arms  and  legs,  and  his  politics  were  stubborn  and 
easily  understood.  He  thought,  with  Horsley,  that  "  the  peo- 
ple have  nothing  to  do  with  the  laws  but  to  obey  them." 

I  had  lived  with  the  old  gentleman  all  my  life.  My  par- 
ents, in  dying,  had  bequeathed  me  to  him  as  a  rich  legacy. 
I  believe  the  old  villain  loved  me  as  his  own  child — nearly  if 
not  quite  as  well  as  he  loved  Kate — but  it  was  a  dog's  exist- 
ence that  he  led  me,  after  all  From  my  first  year  until  my 
fifth,  he  obliged  me  with  very  regular  floggings.  From  five 
to  fifteen,  he  threatened  me  hourly  with  the  House  of  Cor- 
rection. From  fifteen  to  twenty  not  a  day  passed  in  which 
he  did  not  promise  to  cut  me  off  with  a  shilling.  I  was  a  sad 
dog,  it  is  true — but  then  it  was  a  part  of  my  nature — a  point 
of  my  faith.  In  Kate,  however,  I  had  a  firm  friend,  and  I 
knew  it  She  was  a  good  girl,  and  told  me  very  sweetly  that 
I  might  have  her  (plum  and  all)  whenever  I  could  badger  my 
grand-uncle  Bumgudgeon  into  the  necessary  consent.  Poor 
girl ! — she  was  barely  fifteen,  and  without  this  consent,  her 
little  amount  iu  the  funds  was  not  come-at-able  until  five  im« 


THREE  SUNDAYS  IN  A    WEEK.  ITS 

measurable  summers  had  "  dragged  their  slow  length  along." 
"What  then,  to  do  ?  At  fifteen,  or  even  at  twenty-one  (for  I 
had  now  passed  my  fifth  olympiad),  five  years  in  prospect  are 
very  much  the  same  as  five  hundred.  In  vain  we  besieged 
the  old  gentleman  with  importunities.  Here  was  a  ptice  de 
resistance  (as  Messieurs  Ude  and  Carene  would  say)  which 
suited  his  perverse  fancy  to  a  T.  It  would  have  stirred  the 
indignation  of  Job  himself,  to  see  how  much  like  an  old  mou- 
ser  he  behaved  to  us  two  poor  wretched  little  mice.  In  his 
heart  he  wished  for  nothing  more  ardently  than  our  union. 
He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  this  all  along.  In  fact,  he  would 
have  given  ten  thousand  pounds  from  his  own  pocket  (Kate's 
plum  was  her  own)  if  he  could  have  invented  anything  like  an 
excuse  for  complying  with  our  very  natural  wishes.  But  then 
•we  had  been  so  imprudent  as  to  broach  the  subject  ourselves. 
Not  to  oppose  it  under  such  circumstances,  I  sincerely  be- 
lieve was  not  in  his  power. 

I  have  said  already  that  he  had  his  weak  points  ;  but,  in 
speaking  of  these  I  must  not  be  understood  as  referring  to  hia 
obstinacy — which  was  one  of  his  strong  points — "assure- 
ment  ce  n'etait  pas  sonfaible"  When  I  mention  his  weakness 
I  have  allusion  to  a  bizarre  old-womanish  superstition  which 
beset  him.  He  was  great  in  dreams,  portents,  et  id  genus  omne 
of  rigmarole.  He  was  excessively  punctilious,  too,  upon  small 
points  of  honor,  and,  after  his  own  fashion,  was  a  man  of  his 
word,  beyond  doubt.  This  was,  in  fact,  one  of  his  hobbies. 
The  spirit  of  his  vows  he  made  no  scruple  of  setting  at  naught, 
but  the  letter  was  a  bond  inviolable.  Now  it  was  this  latter 
peculiarity  in  his  disposition,  of  which  Kate's  ingenuity  en- 
abled  us  one  fine  day,  not  long  after  our  interview  in  the  din- 
ing-room, to  take  a  very  unexpected  advantage,  and,  having 
thus,  in  the  fashion  of  all  modern  bards  and  orators,  exhausted 
in  prolegomena,  all  the  time  at  my  command,  and  nearly  all 
the  room  at  my  disposal,  I  will  sum  up  in  a  few  words  what 
constitutes  the  whole  pith  of  the  story. 

It  happened  then — so  the  Fates  ordered  it — that  among  the 
naval  acquaintances  of  my  betrothed,  were  two  gentlemen  who 
had  just  set  foot  upon  the  shores  of  England,  after  a  year's 
absence,  each,  in  foreign  travel.  In  company  with  these  gen- 
tlemen, my  cousin  and  I,  preconcertedly,  paid  uncle  Kumgud- 
geon  a  visit  on  the  afternoon  of  Sunday,  October  the  tenth — • 
just  three  weeks  after  the  memorable  decision  which  had  so 
cruelly  ^defeated  our  hopes.  For  about  ha1*  *n  hour  the 


176  THREE  SUNDAYS  IN  A    WEEK 

conversation  ran  upon  ordinary  topics ;  but  at  last  we  con« 
trived,  quite  naturally,  to  give  it  the  following  turn  : 

Capt.  Pratt.  "  Well,  I  have  been  absent  just  one  year. 
Just  one  year  to-day,  as  I  live — let  rne  see  !  yes ! — this  is  Oct. 
ober  the  tenth.  You  remember,  Mr.  Rumgudgeon,  I  called 
this  day  year  to  bid  you  good-bye.  And  by  the  way,  it  does 
seem  something  like  a  coincidence,  does  it  not — that  our 
friend,  Captain  Smitherton,  here,  has  been  absent  exactly  a 
year  also — a  year  to-day  ?  " 

Smitherton.  "  Yes  !  just  one  year  to  a  fraction.  You  will 
remember,  Mr.  Rumgudgeon,  that  I  called  with  Capt.  Pratfc 
on  this  very  day,  last  year,  to  pay  my  parting  respects." 

Uncle.  "Yes,  yes,  yes — I  remember  it  very  well — very- 
queer  indeed !  Both  of  you  gone  just  one  year.  A  very 
strange  coincidence,  indeed  !  Just  what  Doctor  Dubble  L. 
Dee  would  denominate  an  extraordinary  concurrence  of  events. 
Doctor  Dub " 

Kate.  [Interrupting.]  "  To  be  sure,  papa,  it  is  something 
strange  ;  but  then  Captain  Pratt  and  Captain  Smitherton 
didn't  go  altogether  the  same  route,  and  that  makes  a  differ- 
ence, you  know." 

Uncle.  "  I  don't  know  any  such  thing,  you  huzzy  !  How 
should  I  ?  I  think  it  only  makes  the  matter  more  remarkable. 
Doctor  Dubble  L.  Dee " 

Kate.  "  Why,  papa,  Captain  Pratt  went  round  Cape  Horn, 
and  Captain  Smitherton  doubled  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope." 

Uncle.  "  Precisely  ! — the  one  went  east  and  the  other  went 
west,  you  jade,  and  they  both  have  gone  quite  round  the 
world.  By  the  by,  Doctor  Dubble  L.  Dee " 

Myself.  [Hurriedly.}  "  Captain  Pratt,  you  must  come  and 
spend  the  evening  with  us  to-morrow — you  and  Smitherton — 
you  can  tell  us  all  about  your  voyage,  and  we'll  have  a  game 
of  whist  and " 

Pratt.  "  Whist,  my  dear  fellow — you  forget.  To-morrow 
will  be  Sunday.  Some  other  evening " 

Kate.  "  Oh,  no,  fie ! — Robert's  not  quite  so  bad  as  that* 
To-day's  Sunday." 

Uncle.     "  To  be  sure — to  be  sure  ! " 

Pratt.  "  I  beg  both  your  pardons — but  I  can't  be  so  much 
mistaken.  I  know  to-morrow's  Sunday,  because " 

Smitherton.  [Much  surprised.]  "What  are  you  all  thinking 
about?  Wasn't  yesterday  Sunday,  I  should  like  to  know?  " 

All.     "  Yesterday,  indeed !  you  are  out !  " 


THREE  SUNDAYS  IN  A    WEEK.  177 

Uncle.     "  To-day's  Sunday,  I  say — don't  /  know  ?  * 

Pratt.     "  Oh  no  ! — to-morrow's  Sunday." 

Smitherton.  "  You  are  att  mad — every  one  of  you.  I  am  as 
positive  that  yesterday  was  Sunday,  as  I  am  that  I  sit  upon 
this  chair." 

Kate.  [Jumping  up  eagerly.]  " I  see  it — I  see  it  all  Papa, 
this  is  a  judgment  upon  you,  about — about  you  know  what. 
Let  me  alone,  and  I'll  explain  it  all  in  a  minute.  It's  a  very 
simple  thing,  indeed.  Captain  Smitherton  says  that  yesterday 
was  Sunday  :  so  it  was ;  he  is  right.  Cousin  Bobby,  and 
uncle  and  I,  say  that  to-day  is  Sunday  :  so  it  is  ;  we  are  right. 
Captain  Pratt  maintains  that  to-morrow  will  be  Sunday :  so  it 
will ;  he  is  right,  too.  The  fact  is,  we  are  all  right,  and  thus 
three  Sundays  have  come  together  in  a  week." 

Smitherton.  [After  a  pause.]  "By  the  by,  Pratt,  Kate  has 
us  completely.  What  fools  we  two  are !  Mr.  Rumgudgeon, 
the  matter  stands  thus :  the  earth  you  know  is  twenty-four 
thousand  miles  in  circumference.  Now  this  globe  of  the  earth 
turns  upon  its  own  axis — revolves — spins  round — these  twenty- 
four  thousand  miles  of  extent,  going  from  west  to  east,  in 
precisely  twenty-four  hours.  Do  you  understand,  Mr.  Rum- 
gudpeon  ?  " 

L'hde.     "To  be  sure — to  be  sure — Doctor  Dub " 

Smitherton.  [Droivning  his  voice.]  "  Well,  sir  ;  that  is  at  the 
rate  of  one  thousand  miles  per  hour.  Now,  suppose  that  I  sail 
from  this  position  a  thousand  miles  east.  Of  course,  I  antici- 
pate the  rising  of  the  sun  here  at  London,  by  just  one  hour. 
I  see  the  sun  rise  one  hour  before  you  do.  Proceeding,  in  the 
same  direction,  yet  another  thousand  miles,  I  anticipate  the 
rising  by  two  hours — another  thousand,  and  I  anticipate  it  by 
three  hours,  and  so  on,  until  I  go  entirely  round  the  globe, 
and  back  to  this  spot,  when,  having  gone  twenty-four  thousand 
miles  east,  I  anticipate  the  rising  of  the  London  sun  by  no  lesa 
than  twenty-four  hours  ;  that  is  to  say,  I  am  a  day  in  advance 
of  your  time.  Understand,  eh  ?  " 

Uncle.     "  But  Dubble  L.  Dee " 

Smitherton.  [Speaking  very  loud.]  Captain  Pratt,  on  the  con- 
trary, when  he  had  sailed  a  thousand  miles  west  of  this  posi- 
tion, was  an  hour,  and  when  he  had  sailed  twenty-four  thou- 
sand miles  west,  was  twenty-four  hours,  or  one  day,  behind 
the  time  at  London.  Thus,  with  me,  yesterday  was  Sunday 
• — thus,  with  you,  to-day  is  Sunday — and  thus,  with  Pratt,  to- 
morrow Avill  be  Sunday.  And  what  is  more,  Mr.  Rumgud- 


178  THREE  SUNDAYS  IN  A    WEEK 

i,  it  is  positively  clear  that  we  are  all  right ;  for  there  can 
no  philosophical  reason  assigned  why  the  idea  of  one  of  us 
should  have  preference  over  that  of  the  other." 

Uncle,  "  My  eyes  ! — well,  Kate — well,  Bobby  ! — this  is  a 
judgment  upon  me,  as  you  say.  But  I  am  a  man  of  my  word 
— mark  that  !  you  shall  have  her,  boy  (plum  and  all),  when  you 
please.  Done  up,  by  Jove  !  Three  Sundays  all  in  a  row.  I'll 
go,  and  take  Dubble  L,  Dee's  opinion  upon  that." 


IHE  DEVIL  IN  THE  BELFRY. 


What  o'clock  is  it  ?—  Old  Saying. 

EVERYBODY  knows,  in  a  general  way,  that  the  finest  place  in 
the  world  is — or,  alas,  was — the  Dutch  borough  of  Vondervot- 
teimittiss.  Yet,  as  it  lies  some  distance  from  any  of  the  main 
roads,  being  in  a  somewhat  out-of-the-way  situation,  there 
are,  perhaps,  very  few  of  my  readers  who  have  ever  paid  it  a 
visit.  For  the  benefit  of  those  who  have  not,  therefore,  it  will 
be  only  proper  that  I  should  enter  into  some  account  of  it 
And  this  is,  indeed,  the  more  necessary,  as  with  the  hope  of 
enlisting  public  sympathy  in  behalf  of  the  inhabitants,  I  de- 
sign here  to  give  a  history  of  the  calamitous  events  which  have 
so  lately  occurred  within  its  limits.  No  one  who  knows  me 
mil  doubt  that  the  duty  thus  self-imposed  will  be  executed  to 
the  best  of  my  ability,  With  all  that  rigid  impartiality,  all  that 
cautious  examination  into  facts,  and  diligent  collation  of  au- 
thorities, which  should  ever  distinguish  him  who  aspires  to 
the  title  of  historian. 

By  the  united  aid  of  medals,  manuscripts,  and  inscriptions, 
I  am  enabled  to  say,  positively,  that  the  borough  of  Vonder- 
votteimittiss  has  existed,  from  its  origin,  in  precisely  the  same 
condition  which  it  at  present  preserves.  Of  the  date  of  this 
origin,  however,  I  grieve  that  I  can  only  speak  with  that  spe- 
cies of  indefinite  definiteness  which  mathematicians  are,  at 
times,  forced  to  put  up  with  in  certain  algebraic  formulae. 
The  date,  I  may  thus  say,  in  regard  to  the  remoteness  of  its 
antiquity,  cannot  be  less  than  any  assignable  quantity  whatso- 
ever. 

Touching  the  derivation  of  the  name  Yondervotteimittiss,  I 
confess  myself,  with  sorrow,  equally  at  fault.  Among  a  muV 
titude  of  opinions  upon  this  delicate  point — some  acute,  some 
learned,  some  sufficiently  the  reverse — I  am  able  to  select  noth- 


180  THE  DEVIL  IN  THE  BELFRY. 

ing  which  ought  to  be  considered  satisfactory.  Perhaps  the  idea 
of  Grogswigg — nearly  coincident  with  that  of  Kroutaplenttey 
• — is  to  be  cautiously  preferred.  It  runs  : — "  Vondervotteimitti^s 
• — Yonder,  lege  Bonder —  Votteimittiss,  quasi  und  Bleitziz—Bleitziz 
obsol:  pro  Blitzen."  This  derivation,  to  say  the  truth,  is  still 
countenanced  by  some  traces  of  the  electric  fluid  evident  on 
the  summit  of  the  steeple  of  the  House  of  the  Town-Council. 
I  do  not  choose,  however,  to  commit  myself  on  a  theme  of 
such  importance,  and  must  refer  the  reader  desirous  of  infor- 
mation to  the  "  OratiunculoB  de  Rebus  Prceter-Veteris"  of  Dun- 
dergutz.  See,  also,  Blunderbuzard  "  De  Derivationibus,"  pp. 
27  to  5010,  Folio,  Gothic  edit.,  Red  and  Black  character, 
Catch-word  and  No  Cypher  ; — wherein  consult,  also,  marginal 
notes  in  the  autograph  of  Stuffundpuff,  with  the  sub-Commen- 
taries of  Gruntundguzzell. 

Notwithstanding  the  obscurity  which  thus  envelops  the 
date  of  the  foundation  of  Vondervotteirnittiss,  and  the  deriva- 
tion of  its  name,  there  can  be  no  doubt,  as  I  said  before,  that 
it  has  always  existed  as  we  find  it  at  this  epoch.  The  oldest 
man  in  the  borough  can  remember  not  the  slightest  difference 
in  the  appearance  of  any  portion  of  it ;  and,  indeed,  the  very 
suggestion  of  such  a  possibility  is  considered  an  insult.  The 
site  of  the  village  is  in  a  perfectly  circular  valley,  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  in  circumference,  and  entirely  surrounded 
by  gentle  hills,  over  whose  summit  the  people  have  never  yet 
ventured  to  pass.  For  this  they  assign  the  very  good  reason 
that  they  do  not  believe  there  is  anything  at  aU  on  the  other 
aide. 

Round  the  skirts  of  the  valley  (which  is  quite  level,  and 
paved  throughout  with  flat  tiles)  extends  a  continuous  row 
of  sixty  little  houses.  These,  having  their  backs  on  the  hills, 
must  look,  of  course,  to  the  centre  of  the  plain,  which  is  just 
sixty  yards  from  the  front  door  of  each  dwelling.  Every 
house  has  a  small  garden  before  it,  with  a  circular  path,  a  sun- 
dial, and  twenty-four  cabbages.  The  buildings  themselves  are 
so  precisely  alike,  that  one  can  in  no  manner  be  distinguished 
from  the  other.  Owing  to  the  vast  antiquity,  the  style  of  archi- 
tecture is  somewhat  odd,  but  it  is  not  for  that  reason  the  less 
strikingly  picturesque.  They  are  fashioned  of  hard-burned 
little  bricks,  red,  with  black  ends,  so  that  the  walls  look  like 
a  chess-board  upon  a  great  scale.  The  gables  are  turned  to 
the  front,  and  there  are  cornices,  as  big  as  all  the  rest  of  the 
house,  over  the  eaves  and  over  the  main  doors.  The  windows 


TEE  DEVIL  IN  THE  BELFRY.  181 

are  narrow  and  deep,  with  very  tiny  panes  and  a  great  deal  of 
Bash.  On  the  roof  is  a  vast  quantity  of  tiles  with  long  curly 
ears.  The  woodwork,  throughout,  is  of  a  dark  hue,  and  there 
is  much  carving  about  it,  with  but  a  trifling  variety  of  pattern ; 
for,  time  out  of  mind,  the  carvers  of  Vondervotteimittiss  have 
never  been  able  to  carve  more  than  two  objects — a  time-piece 
and  a  cabbage.  But  these  they  do  exceedingly  well,  and  in- 
tersperse them,  with  singular  ingenuity,  wherever  they  find 
room  for  the  chisel. 

The  dwellings  are  as  much  alike  inside  as  out,  and  the  furni- 
ture is  all  upon  one  plan.  The  floors  are  of  square  tiles,  the 
chairs  and  tables  of  black-looking  wood  with  thin  crooked 
legs  and  puppy  feet.  The  mantel-pieces  are  wide  and  high, 
and  have  not  only  time-pieces  and  cabbages  sculptured  over 
the  front,  but  a  real  time-piece,  which  makes  a  prodigious 
ticking,  on  the  top  in  the  middle,  with  a  flower -pot  contain- 
ing a  cabbage  standing  on  each  extremity  by  way  of  outrider. 
Between  each  cabbage  and  the  time-piece,  again,  is  a  little 
China  man  having  a  large  stomach  with  a  great  round  hole  in 
it,  through  which  is  seen  the  dial-plate  of  a  watch. 

The  fire-places  are  large  and  deep,  with  fierce  crooked- 
looking  fire-dogs.  There  is  constantly  a  rousing  fire,  and  a 
huge  pot  over  it,  full  of  saur-kraut  and  pork,  to  which  the 
good  woman  of  the  house  is  always  busy  in  attending.  She 
is  a  little  fat  old  lady,  with  blue  eyes  and  a  red  face,  and 
wears  a  huge  cap  like  a  sugar-loaf,  ornamented  with  purple 
and  yellow  ribbons.  Her  dress  is  of  orange-colored  linsey- 
woolsey,  made  very  full  behind  and  very  short  in  the  waist — 
and  indeed  very  short  in  other  respects,  not  reaching  below 
the  middle  of  her  leg.  This  is  somewhat  thick,  and  so  are 
her  ankles,  but  she  has  a  fine  pair  of  green  stockings  to  cover 
them.  Her  shoes — of  pink  leather — are  fastened  each  with  a 
bunch  of  yellow  ribbons  puckered  up  in  the  shape  of  a  cab- 
bage. In  her  left  hand  she  has  a  little  heavy  Dutch  watch  ;  in 
her  right  she  wields  a  ladle  for  the  sauer-kraut  and  pork.  By 
her  side  there  stands  a  fat  tabby  cat,  with  a  gilt  toy  repeater 
tied  to  its  tail,  which  "the  boys  "  have  there  fastened  by  way 
of  a  quiz. 

The  boys  themselves  are,  all  three  of  them,  in  the  garden 
attending  the  pig.  They  are  each  two  feet  in  height.  They 
have  three-cornered  cocked  hats,  purple  waistcoats  reaching 
down  to  their  thighs,  buckskin  knee-breeches,  red  woollen 
stockings,  heavy  shoes  with  big  silver  buckles,  and  long  sur- 


182  VRE  DEVIL  IN  THE  BELFRY. 

tout  coats  with  large  buttons  of  mother-of-pearL  Each,  too, 
has  a  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  a  little  dumpy  watch  in  his  right 
hand.  He  takes  a  puff  and  a  look,  and  then  a  look  and 
a  puff.  The  pig — which  is  corpulent  and  lazy — is  occu- 
pied now  in  picking  up  the  stray  leaves  that  fall  from  the  cab- 
bages, and  now  in  giving  a  kick  behind  at  the  gilt  repeater, 
•which  the  urchins  have  also  tied  to  his  tail,  in  order  to  make 
him  look  as  handsome  as  the  cat. 

Right  at  the  front  door,  in  a  high-backed,  leather-bottomed, 
armed  chair,  with  crooked  legs  and  puppy  feet  like  the 
tables,  is  seated  the  old  man  of  the  house  himself.  He  is  an 
exceedingly  puffy  little  old  gentleman,  with  big  circular  eyes 
and  a  huge  double  chin.  His  dress  resembles  that  of  the 
boys — and  I  need  say  nothing  further  about  it.  All  the  dif- 
ference is,  that  his  pipe  is  somewhat  bigger  than  theirs,  and 
he  can  make  a  greater  smoke.  Like  them,  he  has  a  watch, 
but  he  carries  his  watch  in  his  pocket.  To  say  the  truth,  he 
has  something  of  more  importance  than  a  watch  to  attend  to — 
and  what  that  is,  I  shall  presently  explain.  He  sits  with  his 
right  leg  upon  his  left  knee,  wears  a  grave  countenance,  and 
always  keeps  one  of  his  eyes,  at  least,  resolutely  bent  upon  a 
certain  remarkable  object  in  the  centre  of  the  plain. 

This  object  is  situated  in  the  steeple  of  the  House  of  the 
Town  Council.  The  Town  Council  are  all  very  little,  round, 
oily,  intelligent  men,  with  big  saucer  eyes  and  fat  double 
chins,  and  have  their  coats  much  longer  and  their  shoe- 
buckles  much  bigger  than  the  ordinary  inhabitants  of  Von- 
dervotteimittiss.  .Since  my  sojourn  in  the  borough,  they  have 
had  several  special  meetings,  and  have  adopted  these  three 
important  resolutions  : — 

"  That  it  is  wrong  to  alter  the  good  old  course  of  things  : " 

"That  there  is  nothing  tolerable  out  of  Voudervotteimit- 
tiss  : "  and — 

"  That  we  will  stick  by  our  clocks  and  our  cabbages." 

Above  the  session-room  of  the  Council  is  the  steeple,  and  in 
the  steeple  is  the  belfry,  where  exists,  and  has  existed  time 
out  of  mind,  the  pride  and  wonder  of  the  village — the  great 
clock  of  the  borough  of  Vondervotteimittiss.  And  this  is  the 
object  to  which  the  eyes  of  the  old  gentlemen  are  turned  who 
Bit  in  the  leather-bottomed  arm-chairs. 

The  great  clock  has  seven  faces — one  in  each  of  the  seven 
Bides  of  the  steeples — so  that  it  can  be  readily  seen  from  all 
quarters.  Its  faces  are  large  and  white,  and  its  hands  heavy 


THE  DEVIL  IN  THE  BELFRY.  183 

and  black.  There  is  a  belfry-man  whose  sole  duty  is  to  attend 
to  it ;  but  this  duty  is  the  most  perfect  of  sinecures — for  the 
clock  of  Vondervotteimittiss  was  never  yet  known  to  have  any- 
thing the  matter  with  it.  Until  lately,  the  bare  supposition 
of  such  a  thing  was  considered  heretical  From  the  remotest 
period  of  antiquity  to  which  the  archives  have  reference,  the 
hours  have  been  regularly  struck  by  the  big  bell.  And,  in- 
deed, the  case  was  just  the  same  with  all  the  other  clocks  and 
watches  in  the  borough.  Never  was  such  a  place  for  keeping 
the  true  time.  When  the  large  clapper  thought  proper  to  say 
"  Twelve  o'clock  ! "  all  its  obedient  f ollowers  opened  their 
throats  simultaneously,  and  responded  like  a  very  echo.  In 
short,  the  good  burghers  were  fond  of  their  sauer-kraut,  but 
then  they  were  proud  of  their  clocks. 

All  people  who  hold  sinecure  offices  are  held  in  more  or  less 
respect,  and  as  the  belfry-man  of  Vondervotteimittiss  has  the 
most  perfect  of  sinecures,  he  is.  the  most  perfectly  respected 
of  any  man  in  the  world.  He  is  the  chief  dignitary  of  the 
borough,  and  the  very  pigs  look  up  to  him  with  a  sentiment 
of  reverence.  His  coat-tail  is  very  far  longer — his  pipe,  hia 
shoe-buckles,  his  eyes,  and  his  stomach,  very  far  bigger — than 
those  of  any  other  old  gentleman  in  the  village  ;  and  as  to  hia 
chin,  it  is  not  only  double,  but  triple. 

I  have  thus  painted  the  happy  estate  of  Vondervotteimittiss ; 
alas,  that  so  fair  a  picture  should  ever  experience  a  reverse ! 

There  has  been  long  a  saying  among  the  wisest  inhabitants, 
that  "no  good  can  come  from  over  the  hills;"  and  it  really 
seemed  that  the  words  had  in  them  something  of  the  spirit  of 
prophecy.  It  wanted  five  minutes  of  noon,  on  the  day  before 
yesterday,  when  there  appeared  a  very  odd-looking  object  on 
the  summit  of  the  ridge  to  the  eastward.  Such  an  occurrence, 
of  course,  attracted  universal  attention,  and  every  little  old 
gentleman  who  sat  hi  a  leather-bottomed  arm-chair,  turned 
one  of  his  eyes  with  a  stare  of  dismay  upon  the  phenomenon, 
Btill  keeping  the  other  upon  the  clock  in  the  steeple. 

By  the  time  that  it  wanted  only  three  minutes  to  noon,  the 
droll  object  in  question  was  perceived  to  be  a  very, diminutive, 
foreign-looking  young  man.  He  descended  the  hills  at  a 
great  rate,  so  that  everybody  had  soon  a  good  look  at  him. 
He  was  really  the  most  finnicky  little  personage  that  had  ever 
been  seen  in  Voudervotteimittiss.  His  countenance  was  of  a 
dark  snuff-color,  and  he  had  a  long,  hooked  nose,  pea  eyes,  a 
wide  mouth,  and  an  excellent  set  of  teeth,  which  latter  he 


184  THE  DEVIL  IN  THE  BELFRY. 

seemed  anxious  ©f  displaying,  as  he  was  grinning  from  ear  to 
ear.  What  with  mustachios  and  whiskers,  there  was  none  of 
the  rest  of  his  face  to  be  seen.  His  head  was  uncovered,  and 
his  hair  neatly  done  up  in  papillotes.  His  dress  was  a  tight- 
fitting  swallow-tailed  black  coat  (from  one  of  whose  pockets 
dangled  a  vast  length  of  white  handkerchief),  black  kersey- 
mere knee-breeches,  black  stockings,  and  stumpy-looking 
pumps,  with  huge  bunches  of  black  satin  ribbon  for  bows. 
Under  one  arm  he  carried  a  huge  chapeau-de-bras,  and  under 
the  other  a  fiddle  nearly  five  times  as  big  as  himself.  In  hia 
left  hand  was  a  gold  snuff-box,  from  which,  as  he  capered 
down  the  hill,  cutting  all  manner  of  fantastical  steps,  he  took 
snuff  incessantly,  with  an  air  of  the  greatest  possible  self-sat- 
isfaction. God  bless  me  ! — here  was  a  sight  for  the  honest 
burghers  of  Vondervotteimittiss ! 

To  speak  plainly,  the  fellow  had,  in  spite  of  his  grinning,  an 
audacious  and  sinister  kind  of  face  ;  and  as  he  curvetted  right 
into  the  village,  the  odd  stumpy  appearance  of  his  pumps  ex- 
cited no  little  suspicion  ;  and  many  a  burgher  who  beheld  him 
that  day  would  have  given  a  trifle  for  a  peep  beneath  the 
white  cambric  handkerchief  which  hung  so  obtrusivelv  from 
the  pocket  of  his  swallow-tailed  coat.  But  what  mainly  occa- 
sioned a  righteous  indignation  was,  that  the  scroundrelly  pop- 
injay, while  he  cut  a  fandango  here,  and  a  whirligig  there,  did 
not  seem  to  have  the  remotest  idea  in  the  world  of  such  a 
thing  as  keeping  time  in  his  steps. 

The  good  people  of  the  borough  had  scarcely  a  chance,  how- 
ever, to  get  their  eyes  thoroughly  open,  when,  just  as  it  wanted 
half  a  minute  of  noon,  the  rascal  bounced,  as  I  say,  right  into 
the  midst  of  them  ;  gave  a  chassez  here,  and  a  balancez  there ; 
and  then,  after  a  pirouette  and  a  pas-de-zephyr,  pigeon- winged 
himself  right  up  into  the  belfry  of  the  House  of  the  Town- 
Council,  where  the  wonder-stricken  belfry-man  sat  smoking  in. 
a  state  of  dignity  and  dismay.  But  the  little  chap  seized  him 
at  once  by  the  nose  ;  gave  it  a  swing  and  a  pull ;  clapped  the 
big  chapeau-de-bras  upon  his  head  ;  knocked  it  down  over  hia 
eyes  and  mouth  ;  and  then,  lifting  up  the  big  fiddle,  beat  hiin 
with  it  so  long  and  so  soundly,  that  with  the  belfry-man  being 
so  fat,  and  the  fiddle  being  so  hollow,  you  would  have  swonj 
that  there  was  a  regiment  of  double-bass  drummers  all  beating 
the  devil's  tattoo  up  in  the  belfry  of  the  steeple  of  Vondervot 
teimittiss. 

There  is  no  knowing  to  what  desperate  act  of  vengeance  thia 


THE  DEVIL  IN  THE  BELFRY  185 

unprincipled  attack  might  have  aroused  the  inhabitants,  but 
for  the  important  fact  that  it  now  wanted  only  half  a  second 
of  noon.  The  bell  was  about  to  strike,  and  it  was  a  matter  of 
absolute  and  pre-eminent  necessity  that  everybody  should  look 
well  at  his  watch.  It  was  evident,  however,  that  just  at  this 
moment,  the  fellow  in  the  steeple  was  doing  something  that 
he  had  no  business  to  do  with  the  clock.  But  as  it  now  began 
to  strike,  nobody  had  any  time  to  attend  to  his  manoeuvres,  for 
they  had  all  to  count  the  strokes  of  the  bell  as  it  sounded. 

"  One  !  "  said  the  clock. 

"  Von  ! "  echoed  every  little  old  gentleman  in  every  leather- 
bottomed  arm-chair  in  Vondervotteimittiss.  "  Von  !  "  said  his 
watch  also  ;  "  von  !  "  said  the  watch  of  his  vrow,  and  "  von  !  " 
said  the  watches  of  the  boys,  and  the  little  gilt  repeaters  on 
the  tails  of  the  cat  and  pig. 

"  Two  !  "  continued  the  big  bell ;  and 

"  Doo  !  "  repeated  all  the  repeaters. 

"  Three  !  Four  !  Five  !  Six  !  Seven  !  Eight !  Nine ! 
Ten  !  "  said  the  bell 

"Dree.'  Vour !  Fibe !  Sax!  Seben !  Aight !  Noinl 
Den  !  "  answered  the  others 

"  Eleven  ! "  said  the  big  one. 

"  Elebeu  !  "  assented  the  little  fellows. 

"  Twelve  ! "  said  the  bell. 

"  Dvelf  ! "  they  replied,  perfectly  satisfied,  and  dropping 
their  voices. 

"  Und  dvelf  it  iss  !  "  said  all  the  little  old  gentlemen,  put- 
ting up  their  watches.  But  the  big  bell  had  not  doue  with 
them  yet. 

"  Thirteen  !  "  said  he. 

"Der  Teufel !  "  gasped  the  little  old  gentlemen,  turning 
pale,  dropping  their  pipes,  and  putting  down  all  their  right 
legs  from  over  their  left  knees. 

"  Der  Teufel !  "  groaned  they,  "  Dirteen  !  Dirteen  ! ! — Mem 
Gott,  it  is  Dirteen  o'clock  !  !  " 

Why  attempt  to  describe  the  terrible  scene  which  ensued  ? 
All  Vondervotteimittiss  flew  at  once  into  a  lamentable  state  of 
uproar. 

"  Vot  is  curn'd  to  mein  pelly  ?  "  roared  all  the  boys.  "  I've 
been  ongry  for  dis  hour !  " 

"Vot  iscum'd  to  mein  kraut?  "  screamed  all  the  vrows.  "  It 
has  been  done  to  rags  for  dis  hour  !  " 
•     "  Vot  is  cum'd  to  mein  pipe '?  "  swore  ail  the  little  old  gen« 


186  THE  DEVIL  IN  THE  BELFRi. 

tiemen,  "  Donder  and  Blitzen  !  it  has  been  smoked  out  for  dii 
hour  ! " — and  they  filled  them  up  again  in  a  great  rage,  and, 
sinking  back  in  their  arm-chairs,  puffed  away  so  fast  and  so 
fiercely  that  the  whole  valley  was  immediately  filled  with  im- 
penetrable smoke. 

Meantime  the  cabbages  all  turned  very  red  in  the  face,  and 
it  seemed  as  if  old  Nick  himself  had  taken  possession  of  every- 
thing in  the  shape  of  a  timepiece.  The  clocks  carved  upon 
the  furniture  took  to  dancing  as  if  bewitched,  while  those  upon 
the  mantlepieces  could  scarcely  contain  themselves  for  fury, 
and  kept  such  a  continual  striking  of  thirteen,  and  such  a 
frisking  and  wriggling  of  their  pendulums  as  was  really  hor- 
rible to  see.  But,  worse  than  all,  neither  the  cats  nor  the  pigs 
could  put  up  any  longer  with  the  behavior  of  the  little  repeat- 
ers tied  to  their  tails,  and  resented  it  by  scampering  all  over 
the  place,  scratching  and  poking,  and  squeaking  and  screech- 
ing, and  caterwauling  and  squalling,  and  flying  into  the  faces, 
and  running  under  the  petticoats  of  the  people,  and  creating 
altogether  the  most  abominable  din  and  confusion  which  it  ia 
possible  for  a  reasonable  person  to  conceive.  And  to  maka 
matters  still  more  distressing,  the  rascally  little  scape-grace  in 
the  steeple  was  evidently  exerting  himself  to  the  utmost. 
Every  now  and  then  one  might  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  scoun- 
drel through  the  smoke.  There  he  sat  in  the  belf  ry  upon  the 
belfry-man,  who  was  lying  flat  upon  his  back.  In  his  teeth 
the  villain  held  the  bell-rope,  which  he  kept  jerking  about 
with  his  head,  raising  such  a  clatter  that  my  ears  ring  again 
even  to  think  of  it  On  his  lap  lay  the  big  fiddle  at  which  he 
•was  scraping  out  of  all  time  and  tune,  with  both  hands,  mak- 
ing a  great  show,  the  nincompoop  !  of  playing  "  Judy  O'Flan- 
Dagan  and  Paddy  O'Baferty." 

Affairs  being  thus  miserably  situated,  I  left  the  place  in 
disgust,  and  now  appeal  for  aid  to  all  lovers  of  correct  time 
and  fine  kraut  Let  us  proceed  in  a  body  to  the  borough, 
and  restore  the  ancient  order  of  things  in  Vondervotteimittisi 
by  ejecting  that  little  fellow  from  the  steeple. 


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5  Bound  to  Rise 

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7  Cash  Boy,  The 

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.9  Chester  Rand 

10  Cousin's  Conspiracy,  A 

11  Do  and  Dare 

12  Driven  From  Home 

13  Erie  Train  Boy 

14  Facing  the  World 

15  -Five  Hundred  Dollars 

16  "Frank's  Campaign 

17  Grit;  The  Young  Boatmaa 

18  Herbert  Carter's  Legacy 

19  Hector's  Inheritance 

20  Helping  Himself 

21  In  a  New  World 

22  Jack's  Ward 


30  Paul  Prescott's  Charge 

31  Paul,  the  Peddler 

32  Phil,  the  Fiddler 

33  Ralph  Raymond's  Heir 

34  Risen  from  the  Ranks 

35  Sam's  Chance 

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38  Slow  and  Sure 

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43  Telegraph  Boy,  The 

44  Tin  Box,  The 

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48  Wait  and  Hope 

49  Walter  Sherwood's 

Probation 

50  Wren  Winter's   Triumph 


23  Jed,  the  Poor  House  Boy  61    Young  Acrobat 

24  Joe's  Luck  52    Young  Advent) 


25  Julius,  the  Street  Boy 

26  Luke  Walton 

27  Making  His  Way 

28  Mark  Mason's  Victory 

29  Only  an  Irish  Boy 


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54  Young  Miner 

55  Young  Musician 

56  Young  Outlaw 

57  Young  Salesman 


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2  Boy  Scouts  in  the  Canal  Zone; 

or,  The  Plot  Against  Uncle  Sam 

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or,  The  Key  to  the  Treaty 

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6  Boy  Scouts  in  an  Airship; 

or,  The  Warning  from  the  Sky 

7  Boy  Scouts  in  a  Submarine; 

or,  Searching  An  Ocean  Floor 

8  Boy  Scouts  on  Motor  Cycles; 

or,  With  the  Flying  Squadron 

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"  Jack    Harkaway  " 


Series  of  Books 

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By  Bracebridge   Hemyng 

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Jack  Harkaway's  School  Days 

2  Jack  Harkaway  After  School  Days 

3  Jack  Harkaway  Afloat  and  Ashore 

4  Jack  Harkaway  at  Oxford 

5  Jack  Harkaway's  Adventures  at  Oxford 

6  Jack  Harkaway  Among  the  Brigands  of  Italy 

7  Jack  Harkaway's  Escape  From  the  Brigands 

of  Italy 

8  Jack  Harkaway's  Adventures  Around  the  World 

9  Jack  Harkaway  in  America  and  Cuba 

10  Jack  Harkaway's  Adventures  in  China 

11  Jack  Harkaway's  Adventures  in  Greece 

12  Jack  Harkaway's  Escape  From  the  Brigands 

of  Greece 

13  Jack  Harkaways  Adventures  in  Australia 

14  Jack  Harkaway  and  His  Boy  Tinker 

15  Jack  Harkaway's  Boy  Tinker  Among  the  Turks 

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